Merlin - the Oath Breaker
by Weaving Bard
Summary: Merlin - Oath Breaker, Arthur has finally accepted the fact that Merlin is a warlock and that he is no ordinary warlock, he is thee warlock – Emrys. Merlin has broken his oath to stay by Arthur's side til the day that he dies. Sequel to Merlin - Not Arthur- Merlin - Heavy on the bromance - NO slash
1. Chapter 1

Merlin: the Oath Breaker sequel to Merlin – Not Arthur – Merlin

Arthur has finally accepted the fact that Merlin is a warlock and that he is no ordinary warlock, he is thee warlock – Emrys. Merlin has broken his oath to stay by Arthur's side til the day that he dies.

This story will be about lies, deception, and the truth.

* * *

* recap *

"Merlin no longer resides in Camelot. He has left."

"He must be visiting his mother. He should have asked permission," remarked Arthur.

"No Sire, I assure you that I heard it from Gaius himself. Merlin has taken his possessions and he has left Camelot, Sire."

"I'm _happy to be your servant till_ the day I _die,"_ Arthur whispered, alarmed. He sprang from his bed and then hesitated. If Merlin was going to his death, he wouldn't have taken his things with him. He sat down dejected. Then a wave of realization hit him and his breath hitched._ Merlin had broken his oath. The Oath Breaker, _he really was _Emrys._

*and now the sequel begins*

* * *

The knights of Camelot were sent on a large scale manhunt. Every guard was put on alert. Every village and town was notified and advised to capture the missing manservant. Neighboring kingdoms were also put on alert to bring the manservant in if he was captured. Arthur himself led many Merlin hunting expeditions, but weeks had passed and there was no sign of him anywhere.

The more Arthur looked for Merlin, the angrier he got at Merlin. He didn't care about the magic. The magic wasn't that big of a deal. However, Merlin made it a big deal. He broke his promise! It wasn't as if Arthur ever asked for his friendship, Merlin had given it to him – with a promise! He wasn't going to get out of that promise so easily either.

It was a bad move for Aggravaine to have tried to speak against Merlin. Family relation or not, Arthur had taken out his full fury on the man for saying that Merlin had been a traitor. He had spoken with venom about Merlin's behind the scenes interferences. He had suggested bringing the boy to justice – which had sounded too much like Uther. Arthur threw the man in the dungeon for a week for his insolence and only allowed him out once a full public apology was made.

Gaius had been wonderful. Arthur wasn't sure how he was handling the stress himself, his boy was gone, and yet – he inspired Arthur to keep searching. The second week after Merlin's departure, Uther died in his sleep. Arthur had cried. He did not mourn his father for what he was, but what he should have been. The bitterness that he had felt, had faded to pity. Now the only thing left were harsh lessons on how no one's idea of justice should go unexamined. Arthur delegated that a more efficient court system be researched. No longer would confessions be accepted if they were under duress. No longer would a noble's word have more weight than a servants. And more importantly, magic was no longer outlawed.

If that wasn't a message that Arthur accepted Merlin and wanted him home – Arthur wasn't sure how else to convey it. When his kingdom still remained Merlin-free after two more weeks, Arthur started hiring bounty hunters – to capture his friend. They were given strict instructions that if a hair on the boy's head was mussed – they would be brought in and tried for committing treason.

Merlin was too important.

When Gwaine, exhausted, after a long Merlin hunt had come back and confessed that they would probably never find Merlin's shape-shifting abilities – Arthur had an Uther sized tantrum. Not only did he discover that Gwaine knew about Merlin's magic before he did – he knew about the shape-shifting and hadn't said anything earlier! Arthur interrogated Gwaine, then Gaius, and that was how he found out that George had known! He hounded the temporary manservant for all his information about Merlin. He wanted to know everything he knew and everything he suspected.

Arthur trashed his room. He threw furniture in the throne room. He ripped down draperies and donated them to the seamstresses so that there was no place for a small creature to hide. He had the bottom of his bed boarded off, so that nothing could get underneath it. He ordered for all the furniture in the palace be adjusted so that no Merlin-like form could be sneaking around. He made a decree that no rat ,or cat, or hawk or small creature smaller than a breadbasket was to be killed in the palace.

Shape-shifting! How utterly fantastic and sneaky. That underhanded, devious and brilliant Merlin might be accidentally killed – the IDIOT!

The new king of Camelot was exhausted and there was still no sign of Merlin. No word. It had been weeks. Weeks, without one word to anyone that he was at the very least – alive. Arthur did not want to upset Hunith, but he had run out of ideas. He needed to inform the poor woman that her son was missing. He needed to ask her if she might have any ideas where Merlin may have gone. He also wanted to tell her that if Merlin went to visit her – that he wanted her to tell his friend to come back.

He departed for the Ealdor with Leon, Gwaine, and George.

George was not pleased about riding or venturing away from his polishing, but Arthur did not care. He wanted to keep an eye on the deviant servant. He no longer trusted George himself, but he trusted that the man was loyal to Merlin. He trusted that the man would do his duty, not for his king – but for the man who had earned his respect.

"_Just wait until I get my hands on you, you idiot," _Arthur vowed.

* * *

and so it begins...


	2. Chapter 2

There were many responsibilities that Arthur had to shoulder once he came of age that his father had him carry and one of those was that he often had to deliver bad news to the family of a fallen knight or guardsman. It had been difficult in the beginning. His father hadn't told him much about how to break the news, eventually Arthur found himself at the door of the court physician asking for advice. If anyone knew how to break bad news, it would be Gaius. Arthur at the time had been around fourteen and to him – it wasn't enough that a prince had come personally. No matter who he was, his mere presence wasn't enough to convey the honor of a passed loved one. Thankfully Gaius had taught him how. He taught him how to be humble and honorable when delivering bad news.

Gaius hadn't told Hunith yet. He had not wanted to write her a letter to tell her that her son had left with only a brief explanation in a note. From what Arthur understood, the boy had gone out of his way to clean and tidy – himself – even though George had taken over the maintenance of the physician's chambers. Merlin had roasted a chicken, even though he could no longer stand the smell of meat and left a meal fit for a king. Merlin hadn't considered that a broken-heavyhearted Gaius would not have been in the mood to eat.

When Arthur told the elderly man that he was going to give the news to Hunith himself, Gaius was visibly grateful. He barely spoke – but he didn't have to say anything. Arthur knew.

He thought about leaving Gaius in George's care, however the treacherous manservant was to stay in sight until Merlin was found. For all he knew, George could be contacted by Merlin or know where Merlin was – and he wouldn't have told Arthur. When questioned, George had admitted as much. He proudly stated that Merlin was his master, not Arthur. He declared that Merlin held his loyalty – not Arthur. Arthur thought about stopping George's pay, but the man was simply efficiency personified. He was much more involved in the organization and daily activities of the servants, without him – Camelot would feel the difference. Besides, he didn't begrudge a servant for deciding to help another servant – for free. Goodness knows Merlin needed the help. Feelings of guilt over the amount of work Arthur had given Merlin without a second thought, rose - and not for the first time.

Usually Gwaine was a chatterbox, but lately he had gone silent. It was too quiet. Leon wasn't much for conversation. Gwaine wasn't in the mood. George didn't really have anything to talk about unless it was about domestic stuff – which Arthur rather sleep through. This left Arthur wistfully wishing for Merlin's company more than ever. He kept the mood light even when he was nervous and badgering Arthur about safety. His insults were funny. There were times when Merlin would stop talking just for a while – to think of something creatively scandalous to call Arthur. The corners of Arthur's mouth curled up in a fond smile even though his eyes were wet.

_'"Merlin kept my ego in check_," he thought to himself – ashamed of his prattishness.

"_Don't be a prat,"_ Merlin had once said, affectionately in one of his stranger moments. Merlin had come to see him after he recovered from the bite of the questing beast. Merlin had also made that oath to him, the one that Arthur was determined to make him keep. Merlin would be at his side until one of them died. What ever reason he had for leaving wasn't important. They could work it out. Merlin would return to his side and they would go back to their routine. Merlin would be there for him – as he promised!

There was so much more now that they could talk about, now that he knew about Merlin's magic. Gaius had told him that Merlin wanted him to see Merlin for who he truly was, and Arthur was full of words to reply to that sentiment. It would have to wait until he saw Merlin himself. He had always seem Merlin for who he was. His stupid secret was nothing! Magic wasn't that big of a deal, after all. Even if he was the legendary warlock, that just meant that Merlin had a lot of responsibilities. According to the legend, it was his job to protect and serve _The Once and Future King_. Arthur had been called that by both Merlin and the druids, so why wasn't he doing his job?

Arthur was seething.

By the time they got to Ealdor, Arthur had calmed down. He felt himself growing more and more anxious as they approached Hunith's small shack of a house. He was greeted by many of the commoners, they recognized him – but none approached him. It might have been his expression or it might have been because Merlin was not traveling with him. Either way, he knew that they could tell that his was not a happy visit. He dismounted and left his horse with the others who he asked to stay behind. He wanted to talk to Hunith, alone.

The woman who opened the door was achingly lovely. Merlin's mother, as always, defined a wholesomeness that Arthur had once longed for when he was a child. In a way, he still longed for it, but instead of a mother – he had Merlin.

"Arthur?" Hunith opened her door without hesitation and invited him in. "What are you doing here? Where's Merlin?"

Hunith was looking around him, but there was no Merlin to be seen. Arthur stepped into the house and took in the figure before him. She seemed so delicate. It was a hard life in Ealdor, Hunith was a little thinner than the last time he had seen her. Her homespun clothes were a little more worn, much like Merlin's. There was a small fire burning in the hearth and over it was one small pot, boiling. It was probably one of her tasteless gruels that she had offered him last time. He grimaced at the memory, not because of the quality of the food – no, it was his shameful lack of appreciation of the gesture.

After advising Hunith that it might be better to sit down before he explained anything, the poor woman went as white as a ghost. Obviously she expected the worst. She sat down and lowered her gaze appropriately. He was painfully aware that he would always be a Pendragon to her – and not her son's friend. She was acutely aware of their differences.

"I was wondering if you heard from Merlin lately. He told me he has magic. I'm looking for him," Arthur began and immediately regretted it. Hunith flinched so horribly that she knocked an unlit candle from the table that had been near one of her hands. One small hand went to clutch the fabric near her throat while the other retreated under the table. She shook her head no, she was very afraid.

Arthur let out a frustrated gust of air and cursed. This frightened the poor woman even further.

"Hunith, it's very important that I find Merlin. He's making a big deal out of nothing. I need him to come back. He's made Camelot his home and we want him back. I want him back. I need him. Your son is a very important friend of mine, I cannot replace him."

A ripple of relief crossed the woman's face and her eyes welled, "Oh Arthur! He'd be so happy to hear that!"

Arthur took off his leather glove and held her hand in his. Her hand was even smaller than it looked. Smaller and far more delicate than he imagined. He couldn't imagine hands this small doing farm work for an entire lifetime. He made a split second decision and committed to it.

"Before he left, he wanted to come here to convince you to move to Camelot. Please don't shake your head, I also think it would be for the best. I can set you up with a place. If you need work, we can arrange that. I wouldn't mind hiring you to be Gaius's assistant, the pay is lousy, but the accommodations are nice," offered Arthur. He wished he had done this years ago.

"My place is here," argued Hunith. "It is a grand offer. A tempting offer, but I'm needed here."

"Merlin thought you would come back with him to Camelot," Arthur said quietly. "He was so convinced that you would that he was working hard to earn extra coins by selling remedies to the apothecary."

Some of the fragile woman's vitality left her. Arthur watched her visibly weaken before him.

"Oh. I see," she said, a slight tremor passed over her features. Merlin had inherited her inability to hide emotions. Arthur wasn't sure if she was scared or what was going on in her head, but he did not press her. He didn't want to upset her further.

"I guarantee that Ealdor will have a grand winter season this year. I'll personally make sure that the harvest is protected. I will personally guarantee that every home will have enough food for the winter season. I will personally make sure that your absence is not felt here for I wish to enrich Camelot with your presence. I cannot do that if you are heavyhearted or have doubts. Merlin wanted you to come to Camelot, so I want to bring you there – for his sake. I cannot offer you much more except that anything you want or anything you need – will be yours. I can offer you a home, in Camelot, for life."

Hunith nodded, "If he was sure, I'd come?" The words came out as if they had a bitter aftertaste.

"He was," admitted Arthur, slightly confused. "Gaius said as much. Gaius was the one who told me about Merlin's extra job and determination to get you to come before winter." He released her hand and picked up the candle. It was the same type of candle that Merlin had put in his room, the same candles that Gaius used – Merlin sent her candles. It was just like him – the devoted son.

"I'll find him and bring him back to Camelot, but I need your help. I need you to come to live in Camelot and I need to know if you might suspect where he might have gone."

Hunith shook her head, "No one matters to him as much as you, My Lord. Your happiness and safety matter more to him - more than his own life. He's told me as much in his letters. He hadn't written recently. I've been worried," she admitted.

Arthur and his men rested for the night. Even an open camp was more luxurious than Hunith's home. George was silent. It was obvious to see he was affected by seeing Ealdor. He kept looking at Hunith as if she were an idol to be worshiped. Covertly, Arthur informed George what he was to do when they returned to Camelot. He handed the man his gold pouch, "I want what you don't use, back. Just set everything up, for Merlin's sake."

Just like her son, Hunith had little to pack. Her belongings barely filled a rucksack. The gifts Merlin had sent to her she fit into the iron cooking pot he had also sent to her. She owned so little, Arthur was humbled in her presence. He did not like thinking about this woman facing winters with so little to sustain her. She did not even own a proper blanket, hers – like Merlin's was thin. It was far to thin to be able to keep off a chill nonetheless be warm enough on a winter's night.

Guilt flooded him, Merlin sent her money and gifts every month and she was still this poor. He hadn't paid his manservant that badly had he? Merlin did mention that he was underpaid, but this was – painful. This darling woman, the very essence of motherhood – was silently suffering alone in poverty even though her son was sending her money and gifts.

There was no way that Merlin wouldn't lavish what he could on his mother. Arthur knew him well enough to know he would never neglect his mother. She was the most important person in Merlin's life, no matter what she thought. Merlin would have left his job and his duty – and even Arthur admitted that if she had said, "come back" that Merlin would be doing the right thing by dropping everything for her.

Gwaine was more chatty on the way back to Camelot. He, once again, turned on his charm as he tried to coax smiles from Hunith with his outrageous stories, that were, admittedly a lot less outrageous as he toned down the stories to suit his audience. Hunith laughed and giggled the way that Merlin would have if he had been there. Arthur wasn't jealous of the attention she gave to Gwaine the way he would be if it were Merlin doting on the knight's every word.

Arthur did not doubt that there was enough room in Hunith's heart to shelter and warm every human who was willing to be loved.


	3. Chapter 3

It wasn't often that the king of Camelot gave an order so direct and so clear that there was no way to find a loophole for creativity, however George was up to the task. After he settled Hunith into a guest room, he went straight to work at finding suitable accommodations for his Lady.

It wasn't surprising to find Gwen's old place vacant. Many said the place was wicked, for a temptress had once lived there. It was easy to acquire the building and with a little help from the Secret Servants Society, he found suitable furnishings. There was a major cleaning to be done as the place had been unoccupied for some time. It took four servants, including George, to scrub down, wax and de-spider the little house.

Most of Gwen's furnishings and kitchenware remained and while the table and chairs would do, the bed would not. The bed came from storage. It was one of those old bed frames that Uther had considered lacking in style because of it's simplicity. The headboard was carved beautifully with a woodland scene. Deer and birds, a lake, and some trees would crown the sleeper in an intricate and natural design. The mattresses, he had made. He wanted something soft and comforting. The bottom mattress was made of beaten thrushes, but he had a ample goose feather mattress that he would place on top. It would be firm, but soft. It would be stable enough to ward off any chill in the fast coming winter season. Considering his Lady's modesty, he ordered three sets of soft wool sheets. Several thicker wool blankets dyed in modest blues would be more than adequate for winter. He placed a reinforced barrels of barley and wheat in the kitchen. Several sacks of flour went into the pantry. He hung baskets and filled them with onions and nuts. He bought jars of pickled eggs and dried fruits. He bought a small case of beeswax candles.

Other servants would be questioned about their activity or the items requested, however George wasn't. Even though Arthur was angry with him – that was only between the two of them. George's status with the other servants had not diminished. He informed others about being called in for his loyalty to Merlin, but for this he was considered to be a hero – and was not ostracized for his transgression of making another servant – his master.

On inspection, it seemed to be the home of a wealthy woman. However, George was not pleased. He appropriated two trunks from storage. One he left empty, the other he filled with fabric and a sewing kit. There was a small loom and a spinning wheel from storage as well, both had been repaired and then discarded when the original owner died. He found a few feminine cloaks, no doubt Morganna's discarded and forgotten relics – and hung them in a modest wardrobe.

Some of the maids helped with clothing, filling a dresser with the necessities that a lady might have. Undergarments and woolen stockings. A silver hand mirror, a fine bone comb, and hair pins were placed in a modestly decorated wooden jewelry box. The house was near a water pump and close to a guard station. The guards were alerted to the importance of the little house and were told that if the occupant ever needed assistance – that they were not to hesitate.

Of course, George had to present it to King Arthur before he could offer it to Hunith. The king had paid for it, after all. Arthur no longer trusted him. Compared to Ealdor, the modest house was a palace in itself. However, George was unsure if Arthur would accept the amount of things he had appropriated and he was delighted that Arthur was pleased. He wasn't pleased when George commented that the Lady should be given Merlin's back pay. According to George, Arthur owed Merlin quite a bit of money and it was only natural that he should give this money to Hunith. After a small, polite, and dangerous negotiation with the monarch – George had a small, but full purse to present to the Lady.

Hunith would want for nothing. Her needs were as important to him as Merlin's.

As for Ealdor, supplies and workers were sent to assist the village. Barrels of food, as well as guards to make sure that no bandits would come and strip the place clean were assigned – permanently. The guards would have to furnish and live in Hunith's old house. They were expected to send word if Ealdor were ever in danger of starvation or from hostilities. Kingdom boundaries be damned, Camelot would not tax the place – but Camelot would protect it.

Arthur was a man of his word – Hunith would be well provided for – and George would make sure that the modest woman would never ever have to ask.

* * *

"What else don't I know about him?!" demanded Arthur of Gaius. Now that Merlin's mother had been settled in her new home, he went back to hyper focusing on hunting down his missing manservant. Every night, in his dreams, he visited Merlin in some strange place. It was eerie there. It wasn't well lit and Merlin never moved. No matter what Arthur shouted at him or how hard he hit him, Merlin just stood there –as if his body were just a mere shell. The dreams made him miserable and he descended upon Gaius, not for remedies, but for answers. No longer was he intimidated by the shame Gaius had once made him feel for his families constant accusations of magic – Arthur needed to know more about Merlin.

"What else is there, Gaius?! There's plenty I don't know about him. He stood by me through so much, but he never once shared. Since I can't get it out of him – you'll have to do. You lived with him, you must know something! There has to be something I missed, surely... a hint, a clue, a road not taken. Merlin could not have just disappeared!" and that's where Arthur paused. _ What if Merlin could.. disappear? He had magic. He could make himself invisible, couldn't he? No. It must be the damn shape-shifting. _

Unfortunately none of the rabbits, rats, cats, or roosters that Arthur brought in for interrogation had turned out to be his sneaky magical friend. They would remain in custody and under guard until he had Merlin back. He didn't trust Merlin not to be so stubborn that he stayed in his animal form just to provoke more ire from Arthur.

While Uther's word carried no weight with Gaius, Arthur's did and once Arthur pledged that he wasn't going to execute anyone – no matter what was revealed – did Gaius release the gates to what he knew about Merlin.

It took five days of conversation with brief pauses in between stories. Merlin trying to sacrifice himself for Arthur. Merlin writhing with guilt and anger at himself because Lancelot took his place and went through the veil. Merlin being injured. Merlin with a magic creature embedded in his neck. The release of the dragon. The poisoning of Morganna. The attempt to calm Morganna's nerves about her powers and lead her to people who would tell her magic could be for the good and that having magic wasn't evil. Merlin, silently grieving his father alone. The truth about Sidhe, their attempts on Arthur's life. Merlin killing a Sidhe assassin in the middle of the night. What really happened to Brunhilde. The many times Merlin went out of his way to save Uther, not out of loyalty to the king, but because it would make Arthur sad and bitter to lose another parent to magic. That Merlin took the misuse of magic personally – and he dealt swift and fair lodgement. Gilly. The tournament. The blood the boy had spilled. The sleepless nights... the lack of meals... the lack of funds to invest into his study of magic.

Oh that was the shock of a lifetime, Merlin – Merlin had come to Camelot, to Gaius, in order to learn how to control his magic. The fact that Merlin was magic was difficult enough, but to think he could use magic without meaning to – frightened Arthur. This led to many questions about the differences between Merlin's magic and what was "normal" for anyone else of magic.

It was staggering.

Merlin really did fit the description of the druid legends. That not only would he be magical from birth, but he would be the most powerful magic user of all time. That he would sacrifice much and no one, in the history of the world, would suffer as greatly. Arthur could only imagine what mental turmoil the boy had gone through, but what frightened him was how much more he was experiencing or yet had to face. Arthur didn't want him to be alone anymore.

"What about Emrys?" asked Arthur finally.

Gaius shifted uncomfortably in his chair and lowered his head, "I don't think he believes that is any more than a title, Sire. Or at least he never did before. Something may have changed. He was quiet before he left, if you can imagine it, Merlin being quiet."

Arthur knew too well how strange it was when Merlin stopped chattering. Now he realized just what that meant.

"Do you believe it, Gaius? Do you think he's immortal?"

"I do, Sire," admitted the elderly physician with great difficulty. "I never told him, but I've seen him dead twice and twice – he revived. Once when you went to seek the mortius flower, the antidote to Nimueh's poison... I'm sorry to say it now, Sire. You were too late. He died, but he revived. At the time I thought it was a delayed reaction, but I had witnessed his death. I know now he really had died. The second time," Gaius paused for a drink of water and cleared his throat. These talks had not been easy on him, "the second time was when he was struck by lightning. Sire, you delivered him to me dead. I was going to prepare him for burial, but again – he revived."

Arthur could not think of a worse fate – to live forever.

The king wanted a drink. The kind of drink that numbs both the brain and the body. He wanted to sleep without dreams. He wanted the thought killing fog that awaited him the next day. He wanted to forget what he just learned about his friend. He felt like crying.

"Sire, every decision he made..."

"I know, Gaius. I know. Even his mistakes were done out of love and out of duty. I can't begrudge him that." Arthur covered Gaius's hand with his own and gave a gentle squeeze. If only his father had the strength and character that this physician did in the face of adversity. Gaius truly was loyal.

"He did, a few times, ask me to look out for his mother – before he left. I hadn't contacted her or told her that he was missing because I was hoping you would find him and bring him home. I thought he was planning on doing something dangerous. I never thought he would leave. His duty is to you! You're his purpose for living, Arthur. You are his destiny – he has said this time and time again. There is no way he would leave you unless it was of the utmost importance."

"I'm his.. _destiny?"_

"Sire, your existence _defines _Merlin. Caring for you is the reason he was born. I know that is in the legends – but Merlin has said this, plainly, many times."

Arthur's innards squirmed as he thought of the times he punished Merlin and the times he had taken his anger out on him. He should have never called him _a girl. _Merlin had never been in fear of his own life, even if Gaius never told him that he was immortal. Merlin's fears and nervousness – were for Arthur's life.

It was difficult to hide emotion after so much stress and worry, but the sheer weight of all the shame that Arthur had earned came down upon him. Crushing him. His father's lessons held and he remained dry eyed, but he wondered briefly if shame was enough to kill him. He certainly felt the burden – only too keenly.


	4. Chapter 4

To exist, to be a magical creature and be in the form of a human being – was some sort of joke. If only he had never fallen in-love with the human world.

It would have been better to be born into the world as a proper magical creature or maybe it would be better to be born without magic at all – although truthfully – he couldn't even imagine existing without magic. It might even be better to have never of been born or never to have existed, but he was alive. He was here. There was no taking back his existence, but destiny was cruel. To have a fate, was further maddening.

He didn't want to be a monster.

It was painful to be a monster.

Nimueh had said, _"We are both creatures of the Old Religion,"_ but she could not have been more wrong or more right. They were both creatures – or monsters, but Nimueh was a monster of the Old Religion. Merlin, on the other hand, was magic itself.

It was going to be difficult to keep Arthur safe from such a distance. Merlin wanted to see for himself how the prat was holding up, however he couldn't bring himself to look. If something was happening, he would want to be there. He wanted to live in Camelot. He wanted to live in the Camelot that he had always wished to see – a Camelot where magic was not outlawed. He wanted to go to Arthur's side and do his job properly, but he had made a promise.

There were still people who wanted Arthur dead and he would make sure that they fell.

Silently in the night, Merlin sought his prey. There was a renegade group of sorcerers hell bent on helping Morganna usurp the throne. On dragon wings, he traveled during the night. Kilgharrah did not deny him anything that he asked these days. In fact, his dragon was quieter, but Merlin was in no mood to talk much these days.

They shared a sadness. .

Thanks to the crystals, Merlin could see the dark intentions of mortal men and because of this – he could serve a swift justice before their crimes were committed. A few spells – that were a little too easy to cast – and there were suddenly corspses slowly cooling near a dying campfire. Merlin then reduced the bodies to ashes and erased the camp. He would have to purge a little of his magic - restoring the area to a lush green place teeming with life.

When he returned to the cave, he felt dirtier than he had ever felt. He had murdered twenty people in their sleep.

"Where have you been?" a small female, even by the Sidhe's standards demanded. His attendant. His servant. She disgusted him.

"Restoring the balance," he replied curtly. He coughed into his hand and frowned at it. A thin red sheen stained his palm. He was still bleeding.

"Just kill. Does it matter who dies? Once you spill enough blood, you'll feel better. After you can heal a little and rest, you might even begin to enjoy your position among the Sidhe."

He had his back to Glinde, but he spun quickly than he wanted. His head was swimming and it only increased his anger. He raged at her, "Of course it matters. If it didn't matter I wouldn't be so careful! Life, mortal life, is special. I do not enjoy what I have to do."

If only he hadn't murdered the Sidhe King, he would of never of had to make such a commitment to these beings. They had no idea what mortality meant, how special the promise of death made every waking moment.

His head hurt. His body felt heavy. He was tired of feeling the pain. He would have to kill Morganna soon. He wasn't sure that he could keep this up. He was already entertaining ideas about eternal rest and he couldn't leave her running around with her murderous intentions. Merlin swallowed the metallic bitter in his mouth, nearly choking on the grotesque feeling.

He was forgetting something.

He was forgetting someone.

Merlin frowned as a name came to him, "Mordred."

The crystals were waiting for him. Merlin drug his feet on the ground before he allowed himself to slip further into the cave where the largest crystals were. The larger the crystal the more vivid and clear the images. As much as he hated crystals, he would use them to his on purposes.

He felt impatient, but confident. Mordred and Morganna might be powerful, but they relied on a dying magic. If his plan worked, he would kill them but he would save the Old Religion. Arthur would restore Albion and then Merlin would finally be able to rest.

Merlin had an immortal magical army and more power than the Old Religion had ever had even in its glory days. With every deathblow that he dealt, he felt the growing anguish of the Old Religion. He would end its suffering, but he wouldn't kill it. He would restore it. He would give the Old Religion a new unfragmented source of power. One that hadn't been driven mad with the pain of torture by the evil of Uther Pendragon.

A sad smile bloomed in the darkness of the crystal cave as he thought about it. Immoral or not, he felt his physical body dying – that which the rain had restored – the price was being taken from his very being. Morganna's attempt to be invulnerable – to become mostly undead – had been reversed. She was mortal again. Now once he achieved his goal, he would separate him body from his magic – he would offer his magical soul to the Old Religion and become its power source. Then and only then he would have a chance to achieve his ultimate goal.


	5. Chapter 5

Hunith sipped at her tea appreciatively letting the scent of mint calm her nerves. It was difficult to be still when she was not used to not having to break her back every day. She petitioned for a position in the kitchens. Normally scullery maids were younger women, but she thought that the position would be just right for her. She wouldn't mind the cleaning, the plucking of chickens, or the scaling of fish. She didn't want to be totally immersed in the servant role. She didn't want to have to directly deal with the nobility. She rather answer to another servant. She was just a modest woman from a poor village and nothing was ever going to change that.

She loved her new house. She loved the warmth. There was a comfort here that her body responded to and she found herself smiling at nothing.

It was a delight that she wasn't really alone. Merlin had made such good impressions on so many good people. Hunith had many visitors who brought her things. House warming gifts. Her heart swelled with each and every item for it said much of just how successful Merlin had been here. If he had been a bad person, no one would have graced her new home or welcomed her. Most of the presents were food items, dried herbs for tea, dried fruit, and dried meats. Practical gifts. It suited her just fine and she preferred the non personal gift.

Gaius was good company. He stirred a pot of chicken stew that she had prepared and mumbled a comment about how nice it smelled. A ghost of a smile graced her lips as she recalled one of Merlin's letters that suspected that Gaius's nose worked just fine but his tongue did not. Years of potion tasting had dulled the man's sense of taste. He could eat just about anything but he could not differentiate flavors. Merlin had to sample potions, something about a troll, in order to compare the two. He had complained about the vile flavor - only later did Gaius confess that he couldn't taste anything. Merlin had to be the one to determine if the flavor was right.

Her smile widened as her thoughts drifted to Merlin's letters. The vague and lovely way he had tried to clue her in on the mayhem of his Camelot life, peppered with his unique way of phrasing things. His strange way of thinking. His great heart and his harsh judgments. Her son had a talent for comedy.

"I was surprised that you were still living alone," Gaius said, his deep voice disrupting the stream of her thoughts. One of his eyebrows drifted high on his forehead into an upside down "v" and Hunith quirked her lips.

"I only had my house guest for a little bit of time," admitted Hunith. She smoothed out the fabric of her modest light gray dress. It was her favorite. It was worn but the fabric was good and did not show signs of wear. She plucked at a little fuzz ball. It evaded her attempt and she tried again. "While there were no complaints about the work, I could tell that Ealdor wasn't enough for her."

The stare from the court physician had a weight to it and she felt it settle upon her. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair still hunting the little piece of fuzz. "Hunith?"

"She might be from modest birth, but Gwen is definitely a queen at heart," Hunith explained as she finally extracted the fuzz from her skirts. She held it up to her lips and blew it far from her person.

* * *

Not a single creature stirred as Merlin made his way through the forest. Even though Arthur's hunting trips usually focused on the slaughter of innocent creatures, at least there was the warmth of companionship. All Merlin had now was the ever crushing responsibility of magic. He did not even bother to cover his tracks or not snap branches as he traveled, it took all his concentration to focus on tracking Morganna. The witch was using runes to hide her lair.

Runes weren't fast, or easy, but they were cheap tools of powerful magic. Runes were a way for even the weak sorcerer to use strong magic, if they knew the ancient art of rune writing. Not many knew how, it took training. Gaius mentioned that mage scribes had once been in fashion, but that had died out even before the purge. Apparently there had been an issue with people using runes in sneaky dishonest ways. Merlin sighed to himself shaking his head in disappointment wondering, not for the first time, why people with magic allow magic to be mistreated.

If a talented sorcerer inscribed a rune it was difficult for even Merlin to oppose the spell. A magic book might record runes – inert examples of spells in the old religion. Words of power and control might lay on pages that are safe to read and say, but a properly etched rune that had been written with even a small amount of power can be an almost unbreakable, limitless, and infuriatingly frustrating spell.

Morganna might have had the sense to use runes and she might have been able to infuse hers with a great deal of power, however those who could write them perfectly were long dead. The old religion's power was weak, fragmented, and writhing. The fact she was using runes might have kept Camelot knights from darkening her door. They might have even kept Merlin from noticing her, but … Merlin sniffed the air and shuddered at the foul smell of taint. Merlin could smell the runes themselves. The runes themselves were detectable and they would lead him right to her.

Branches and shrubs scratched at his clothing and his skin as he moved towards the smell. Every snag annoyed him. Every sting and scratch was an affront. It was as if the forest did not know that he was going to rid the world of an unnatural force. What she had done to herself should have never have happened. What he had to do to reverse it should not have had to happen either. Merlin coughed wetly and pushed his way through a thicket. The smell was stronger here, he could almost taste it. Musky and oily like a dead animal forgotten n the sun.

It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

Hunith handed Gaius a hot bowl of stew and sat across from him. She hummed a little as she buttered freshly baked rosemary bread that she had torn into portions and handed him his share. The bread was still steaming, its fluffy exposed interiors glistened wetly with melted butter in the candlelight. She smiled brightly at her guest as she dipped a small corner of bread into her stew. It could have been her imagination or perhaps the butter or the extra seasonings – but food had never tasted this good in a long time. And then she knew why it was such a tasty meal, she caught herself before she laughed at herself. It wasn't the food – it was that she didn't have to eat alone that made the meal good.

"I'm surprised she just left Ealdor like that," said while fiddling with his spoon. "Oh dear, listen to me. If I continue on like this on such things I'll put us off our food."

Hunith laughed out loud. Her laugh was gentle and soft and then she admitted, "Nothing is going to ruin this meal. We have good food and good company to share. I have so much to be grateful for, and Gaius, don't misunderstand - I don't know what happened to her. One morning I woke up to find out that she had gone."

The words were so matter of fact and so plainly spoken that Gaius asked her to repeat what she had said. Hunith had twirled another piece of bread in her stew and was chewing a moderate mouthful thoughtfully. She swallowed and then drank some tea to clear her throat.

"She had gone, Gaius. She hadn't told me that she was leaving. She did not leave a single word with anyone in the village. She had just gone."

"You didn't write to us about it?" asked Gaius, shocked.

Hunith gave him a half smile and shrugged, "What could you do about it? What could Merlin do about it? Neither of you could come to Ealdor, Arthur would come with you. Could you have told him that I was sheltering Gwen? No. Would he look for her? No. I don't even know if she left on her own or not. She took her things with her. She tried to fit in. She kept saying that Ealdor was as good as place as any to build a new life, but she didn't look as if she wanted to be there. She preferred her old life."

"I was wondering why Arthur didn't find her there when he went to tell you Merlin is gone," croaked Gaius miserably. His tea cooling in his hand. Hunith reached over the table and patted his shoulder softly. Her touch always had a calming effect and Gaius visibly relaxed.

"You need to cheer up, Gaius. Everything will be alright. I know you're fond of young and beautiful people. Gwen will be just fine. She's an ambitious girl. It won't be any common bandit or accident that brings her down."

"And Merlin?"

Hunith smiled sadly, "My son is special. All his life, I've wanted him to be anything but, however since he came to live with you – he has grown. He is no longer the awkward boy that I sent to you. He has an extraordinary destiny and a profound sense of duty. His narrow world has widened. You've taught him what I could not. Camelot is where he found his dragon. He is on a journey we cannot understand and I have learned to accept it. Merlin," her voice was laced with love and pride, "Merlin, is doing what he has to do. He will be fine. He has the ability and the wisdom and the knowledge now. All we have to do is believe in him."

Her moss green eyes were bright in the candlelight. They did not brim with tears as were his – no, her eyes were full of pride, faith, and affection.

* * *

There was a small dirty shack in need of repair near a stream. It looked like a woodsman's hut or someone who had been kicked out of a village for being a public menace. Merlin stopped and covered his nose for moment. His head was buzzing with revulsion. He had come here for Morganna. He was after Morganna.

He promised himself that all he needed to do was to bring her to justice, but what was this feeling? It was as if the ground beneath his feet was slanted or moving, but he knew it wasn't. This strange sensation wasn't going away.

It might have been from the runes, but Merlin had a feeling it was something more. It was as if his magic was off center. No. It was as if his feet weren't on the right path, kinda. It was that feeling that he got when ever Arthur was about to do something stupid. Arthur was forever walking right into danger and Merlin could feel the threat coming. It was that kind of feeling.

He squared his shoulders and walked up to the shack. He wasn't going to turn back. There were runes protecting this place. Dirty runes. Morganna had to be here. Merlin knocked on the door and called out before letting himself in.

* * *

AN: Short but incredibly hard to write. How is it so far? I can promise you the unexpected, so don't get your hopes up for anything in particular.


	6. Chapter 6

From the outside the small hovel look in desperate need of repair, but the inside was clean. Shelves lined the walls. It almost looked like the chambers that he shared with Gaius, it was filled with shelves, dried plants, and bottles – however the some of the contents of the potions pulsed grossly within their containers.

Merlin's stomach lurched. There were so many smells in the room. This was the type of place that had one room. There was a thin camp mattress on a beaten up pallet with too many pillows for just one person. There were lit tallow candles on the table and their stench combined with what must have been fresh woodworm was a vile combination. A thin sheen of sweat formed over his brow.

There was a small fire in the hearth, Merlin picked up a spoon off of a nearby table with a repaired leg and lifted the lid of the pot hanging over the fire. He didn't even have to look at the contents. He could smell the venison and the root vegetables quite well as the steam wafted over him. He slammed the lid down and moved away from the cooking food.

Who ever lived here, wasn't far away. Merlin frowned at the idea of spending any amount of time in this hideous house, but he didn't have any choice. After trying to come up with an alternative solution and none – his spirits deflated further. All he had to do was wait for the occupant to come home. He slid into a chair and placed it near a window with shoddy shutters that let in quite a bit of air.

It was difficult to sit and wait. He hadn't been able to be still without distraction since his battle with Morganna and he had restored a good portion of her life. However here, here he had nothing to do and nothing to occupy his mind. It was an agony not to have anything to focus on.

The door opened and Merlin stood. He raised his hand, palm forward, but instead of attacking the person who walked in the door – he waved. His mouth was dry. His mind went blank. The last person he had expected to walk through the door had screamed and dropped an armful of kindling. Merlin's brow knit together in disapproval as he took in the familiar form of Gwen.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed and clasped dainty hands together. She was dressed in a blue and silver brocade fabric that looked very expensive. Around her shoulders was a silver fur stole that was fastened with two heavy brass pins. Her eyes were wide with alarm and darted from him and then around the room as if looking for another person. "Merlin? What has happened to you?"

He had forgotten about Gwen. Merlin frowned. If he had forgotten about Gwen, who else had he not thought of? His mind stumbled down a rickety ladder of thoughts and facts. She was supposed to be in Ealdor with his mother. Mother.

"Don't worry, I'm alone. I didn't expect you to be living here," the words tasted bad in his mouth. He clicked his tongue down from his palate trying to inspire some saliva, but his mouth remained dry. "What are you doing here, Gwen? This isn't where I sent you."

"Merlin what has happened to you?" she looked like a deer about to bolt.

He didn't want to sit. He forgot to lower his hand. He just realized he was standing awkwardly with his palm trust aggressively towards Gwen. Slowly he lowered his arm and shrugged at her. He began to pace around a small table. Gwen did not move. She just stood there despite the dropped kindling. She didn't explain herself. She just looked upset.

The warlock stared at his friend's ex-fiance. There was something unsettling about her, Merlin couldn't think straight. His feelings were getting in the way. He was unfocused.

"Merlin?"

"Explain to me why you aren't in Ealdor, where I sent you, with my mother? Tell me why you are here, Gwen. Don't make me ask you again. You won't like it." He hadn't meant for his lips to curl back off of his teeth or lurch unsteadily around as he spoke. He had only meant to find Morganna. He did not count on this. He pursed his lips together now, uncaring how sour this made him look. He couldn't smile at her or encourage her nicely to speak to him. He was too frustrated and feeling too impatient. She was getting on his nerves just by being out of place.

"I went out one night to get water and I ran into an old friend," she stated carefully. "I didn't want to talk about it or discuss it. I didn't want you to know where I went. I was tired of waiting for him to come around. I figured.. if I left it would ease the suffering of waiting. If no one knew where to find me – I wouldn't feel so abandoned." Her hands still hadn't left the neck of her wrap. She was shuddering, "Now, I that I answered your question. Merlin. Will you answer mine? What has happened to you? You don't look like yourself. My friend might be able to help you."

"_Friend?" _ Merlin's eyes narrowed. "She went to get water and ran into a_ friend?"_ Merlin scoffed unaware that he was loud enough for Gwen to hear every word. He usually kept his derision to himself, unless the subject was Arthur.

"Merlin, please? Obviously there's something wrong with you," Gwen pleaded.

"There's always been something wrong with me. Thank you for finally noticing. Though I suppose just labeling me as _weird _or _strange_ was enough before now? I'm obviously weird and strange now then? So much so you finally realize I'm not normal. I've told you I'm not normal. Remember? I remember saying it. You were prattling on about how great normal guys were – like me – me me – but like me. Do you remember?" He hadn't ceased pacing as he spoke. He didn't want to stand and look her in the face. Her face was making him angry.

"Merlin..."

"So my mother allows you to stay with her and you just take off in the night to live in this beat up little mess," he gestured around the room. "Well at least you can dress yourself well. Though you always were into clothes, right? Still, it would have been nice if you had at least told my mother you were leaving. You really left without a word?"

"Yes," she admitted miserably. She bit her lip, "Merlin. I'm sorry, it was very generous, but..."

"But not generous enough?" spat the warlock.

"At first we were going to travel to the south, but the bandits and the roads are in disrepair. I remembered that my brother had built this place when he first left home. There's an open air forge down by the stream, but it's been over grown with shrubs. You'd have to know what to look for to find it. Anyway, long story short I figured it would be best to come here."

Her excuses didn't matter and she knew it. As if the fact that the house once belonging to her brother made this any better? She was residing within the territory boundaries of Camelot, a kingdom that had exiled her. She had disgraced herself and Arthur... what was she thinking? He began to regret pressuring Arthur to mend his relationship with her. He had doubts about the relationship before, but this lack of respect was beyond comprehension and he did not appreciate it. He would have to something about Gwen. He couldn't leave Arthur to his own devices when he came to this woman.

Shamefully, his thoughts drifted to his mother. He wanted to go to her, but he wasn't sure if his resolve would shatter in her presence. His mother was everything to him, she was kind. She had wholesome priorities. Her heart was pure. He wanted to see her so much that just thinking of her was painful. However if he saw her – he was positive he wouldn't be able to see this through. He couldn't risk it.

"Merlin?"

He ignored her. It wouldn't kill the girl for her to worry a little. He was upset with her. She was interrupting his thoughts. He was trying to think of his mother. He missed her. Thinking about her would be as good as it would get and that realization brought tears to his eyes. He smiled bitterly, happy that he could to cry. Even though he was a monster, he still had feelings.

"Merlin?"

And this one, _Gwen – _he reminded himself, _whoever_ – who did she think she was? Was an exile really too good for Ealdor? Was Ealdor really that bad? Wasn't it better to have a friendly little village than this filthy hovel? Merlin smelled the urine and leavings of mice wafting from a chest of drawers. Ealdor might not be glamorous or on any fast track to fame and fortune, but his mother's house was clean.

"Merlin, I'm frightened. Y-you look..."

"Please stop talking, Gwen, I'm thinking," he admonished her. Merlin had surprised himself that he had remembered to say please. He was probably in a strange mood. He wasn't sure. He felt sick. It could have been from the runes or the smells. If it was something else he wasn't sure of what it might be, but he realized that he was itchy, stiff, and hot. He raged at her through his teeth,"You just have to keep speaking don't you? Have to keep speaking and speaking and speaking! And speaking."

Gwen opened her mouth and closed it in fear and this inspired a bark of laughter from the warlock that was pacing. He stopped when another thought dawned, it crested over and illuminated his mind with strangeness. It was an important idea, but it led to a question and Merlin hated that. The thoguht fragmented and the pieces scattered into possibilities. "Gwen, who is this_ friend _of yours? I thought I knew all there was about you. You seemed so open and honest for such a long time. Perhaps I didn't know you that well at all. Perhaps I never saw you clearly."

* * *

For a manservant who was not trusted very much, George was certainly given many duties and responsibilities. He had to remind Arthur that mucking out stables and maintaining his saddle was the stable boy's duty. Walking the dogs fell to the dog handler and they were walked even if George did or did not walk them. He would take Arthur's clothes to be washed, but it was not his actual responsibility to wash Arthur's clothes. This did not discourage Arthur from trying to place more on George's shoulders, as he once had with Merlin. No request or direct order could break the servant's code of conduct. He stood resolutely in the face of his master and politely suggested other things that needed his attention whilst gliding around the room tidying and dusting.

"It would probably be fruitful to ask the druids where Merlin might be living now. They were at that battle, granted off to the side, in the distance, but I know I saw a few druids," said George crisply with a detached air.

"I've done that," snapped Arthur. George deposited a goblet of weak spiced wine near his hand, but when Arthur turned the manservant had breezed to the other side of the room already. Arthur ignored the goblet and rested his elbows on the table and cradled his chin in his hands. "You know, even though he got away with his secret for years, I'm not a complete idiot. Merlin's just _very _clever. He's more clever than I had imagined."

There was a soft flourish of fabric as George snapped fresh sheets across Arthur's large bed. Arthur turned his head away from George. He was as unhappy with his company as George was unhappy to serve him directly.

"No matter how many druids I asked, they all said the same nonsense about Emrys being eternal and grand. Though one answer was universal with every one of them, _'he has left Camelot, but he will watch over you always.'_ They seemed so pleased with their answers as if they had rehearsed them or something." Arthur sat up straight and brought his elbows off the table as if he could hear his manners master reprimand him. He had long outgrown the trainer, but there were times his body still rebelled against the training.

"Well that's it, isn't it, Sire?"

"What do you mean? What is it? They didn't answer me!" snapped the king at his manservant. George ceased his movement and gave Arthur an owlish look over. It was very uncomfortable to be measured by a clean fanatic. If George found his flaws, if he lacked the luster of a king – would this polishing fanatic take a rag to him and brutally try to make him shine?

"Perhaps, Sire, you might consider asking Gaius where Merlin would be able to see you always without actually being with you?"

Arthur tried not to spring to his feet, but is body reacted instantly. It was hard to maintain any semblance of regal posture around the clean freak anyway. He didn't even say a word to George as he quickly left for the physicians quarters.

What was with his servants? He was sick and tired of quick-witted servants! _No one likes a clever clogs..._

* * *

_Oh this was unexpected,_ thought Merlin as he measured up the man who had come home to find a distressed Guinevere and a pacing agitated warlock. He sighed and tried to reconsider his plan. He had so much more to deal with than just Morganna. Sure she was flashy and tended to garner all his attention, but Merlin was missing so many details. He was ashamed of himself for his inability to see things clearly. The crystals at the cave showed him much, but they did not see beyond runes. Sometimes they showed him what he wanted to see and other times they drifted in to the past. He hated the lack of reliability. Maybe it wasn't the time to consider retiring from the world since he had so much more to contend with that he had forgotten.

"_Hello Emrys,"_ a voice said in his mind snapping Merlin's attention to pin point on the trouble at hand.

"You," sneered Merlin. Oh yes, he had much more to deal with than Morganna.

* * *

AN: I have more time to write so expect frequent updates. So, did you guess? Did you see this coming? So hard to get focused on this sometimes, please let me know if you notice any issues with my plot/writing. Again don't make assumptions, they might bite you in the bum.


	7. Chapter 7

It used to be enough to have the occasional day off to walk through Camelot and greet all the pretty ladies, watch the children play, and to spend coins on drinks with new friends. There was always a steady supply of new friends to squeeze stories out of and to trick into flirting with the cunning bar maids.

It used to be enough and now Gwaine doubted he would ever feel content enough to drink again. A day off was a day that could be spent looking for Merlin and that meant that the day was wasted. No pub would be receive the coin from his pocket whilst his best mate was missing. Drink was a celebration of friendship. A device that lubricated the tongue, numbed the mind, and allowed even the most uptight to become just a regular bloke. A drink could be shared in joy, in woes, or out of boredom. Drink could undo the knots in muscles. It could make the mighty - meek and affectionate. Sometimes it even made the meek and affectionate – mighty.

Other than lavishing libations to chase away the spirits of the dead and consecrate his body against the over mounting stresses that were starting to take toll on his normally fit and flexible body, Gwaine had been painfully sober. It wasn't often that he struck an enemy dead, he rather bring in the rogue for judgment from the crown. He did not want justice to be delivered by his hand, he denied his noble blood for many reasons. He had no right to be the law even if he did not mind enforcing laws.

Gwaine was cursing the sun for being so bright and cheerful as he looked through his window out to the courtyard where peasants scrambled to play out their roles for the day. The air was cool and crisp against his skin and he wished he had put on his shirt. He went to retrieve the discarded item from the floor when a servant came with a message from the king.

Arthur wanted to have … another … meeting.

Spending the day pouring alcohol into his body until he pissed his trousers was more productive than talking. Granted talking sometimes got somethings done, but Arthur seemed to need to talk to everybody about everything lately. He was as desperate as Gwaine to find Merlin, but talking about finding a friend isn't the same as looking for that friend. Gwaine had said all he had needed to say about Merlin and he wasn't looking forward to spending time with his fellow knights. He was still a bit pissed at some of them.

Not everyone who witnessed Merlin's magical display had accepted the fact that Merlin was the warlock of legend. It was a secret. It was a secret to be kept from everyone who hadn't actually seen the battle. Not even Arthur's uncle was to be included in these discussions and Arthur's normal council was feeling left out and neglected because the knights were having exclusive audiences with the king. They would have made such a fuss if they found out.

Arthur repealed the ban on magic. He had stopped hunting druids and magical creatures. He claimed that it was because of the druid legends about Emrys that he decided to repeal the laws. He also revealed the nature of his birth, the burden of his father's guilt, and how he had inherited a kingdom drenched in the blood of innocents. It had been a moving speech, but it was just a speech in the end. It was just a fancy talk and fancy talks weren't things of action.

Gwaine was a man of action.

It was only the devotion to his precious friend that he was willing to go and listen to Arthur talk. The other knights – their opinions didn't matter. They weren't the king. They weren't in charge. Their happiness or disappointments would not bring Merlin back. The key to finding Merlin was by sticking to Arthur and keeping Camelot safe and that meant going to these useless meetings.

It might have been better if Gwaine had applied himself to the task of making the kingdom a few pints lighter at the meeting in order to allow time to pass, but he was afraid he'd pull his sword on those who would, and had, and did, and would again – suggest they stop looking for Merlin. Every time anyone brought up abandoning Merlin to his own devices, Gwaine's blood boiled from the heat of his vicious temper.

His temper – another reason to drink or be a noble.

His temper – another reason not to drink or be a noble.

As he dressed in filthy wrinkled clothing, he thought about drinking and about how far he had come since he abandoned his title. He had to admit to himself that he was damned. His life before Camelot had been hard and pointless. He had tried to find his way through the adventure of the tavern, the one place his tutor, when he had one, had not approved of had drawn him into the quest of seeking happiness at the bottom of a pint. For the first time in years, he felt helpless. He had no idea what to say or what to do other than to just look for his friend. He didn't have the practice of keeping his temper or managing his tongue so he was attempting to master this at a fast pace. Gwaine was going to stay sober and when he found Merlin, he would celebrate and reacquaint himself with the bottom of a pint.

* * *

Something prevented had prevented Merlin from hearing her answer even as she twisted her brocade skirts in her hands and hastily answered all his questions. He couldn't understand her. It wasn't as if he didn't hear the noises coming from her mouth, he just didn't understand any of them.

"... remember … and we decided... spur of the … better off... if Morganna... so I decided... "

It was just an excuse.

A memory came to him. Gwen upset. Her father killed by Uther's blind hatred of magic and his insane wish to punish anyone who had even dared to step into the shadow of a sorcerer was murdered. Poor Tom had been caught trying to escape. Everyone knew what the judgment would be and what weight the sentence would carry. Gwen was devastated. She had said something that had moved Merlin into action to help save the life of the king. Merlin had asked her to answer the question that weighed so heavily on his heart. He asked if she had the power to kill Uther in revenge – she wouldn't do it. It would have made her just as bad as Uther. It would make her a murderer.

He had thought she was a good person.

He never considered her other statement from earlier. He had ignored it at the time, but now that doubts about her intruded into his mind and kicked around his reason, the ugliest statement she had every made came to mind, "The thing I find hardest to bear is that _people will_ always _think he was guilty" _

_He had brushed it off at the time as an insult to Tom's memory, but it seemed to be that he might have __had to reconsider the truth. The good woman was merely wise. The Guinevere, he thought he knew, was only concerned about what people thought. Granted with Uther on the throne it was wiser to be wary of anyone associated in anyway with anything even slightly who had even looked at a sorcerer nonetheless helped one make something. Still, she hadn't been arrested. Merlin didn't get the idea that she was frightened or worried about being executed or exiled. She was more concerned that people would have thought her of her father as guilty – and for some reason that really bothered Merlin._

He hadn't considered that she was merely blessed with wisdom and a tongue that favored the right words. If he hadn't thought of that, if she hadn't been so upset to say such a cold thing – would he be thinking like this right now?

She hadn't been there for Morganna. She had tattled on her to Gaius and Merlin. When push came to shove, she abandoned her. If Arthur had done the same, Merlin would have opposed him by supporting him. He wouldn't have allowed Arthur to cut off his ties to everyone and everything. Gwen allowed Morganna to push her away. She even harbored suspicions about Morganna. At the time, Merlin felt gratitude. Now, he wondered if he should have taken that as a warning. He bit his lip. She was still talking to him. Her so called friend was standing there saying nothing with his creepy wide eyes taking in every movement Merlin made – as if that would do him any good! Their magic was so different they might as well be different species.

He took a breath.

He exhaled.

It was a herculean effort not to scream in frustration.

The woman that he had called friend was a good woman. He couldn't have been that wrong about her. She was kind to him when he first came to Camelot. He had branded himself as a trouble maker by opposing the prince, even though he didn't know it was Arthur, and the woman still had been nice to him. She had even complimented him.

"Merlin?"

"Yes."

"Merlin please talk to me. Talk to us. Maybe we can help you... you don't look well."

_That_ again.

"I don't need help, Gwen, and even if I did - you can't possibly imagine that I would accept help from your friend. I mean it is unlikely that he's going to kill him_self_ after all. What to do... what to do...who are you?" muttered the warlock as he continued pacing. His thoughts sifting through facts as he tried to decide whether or not he was wrong about Gwen. After he cleared all the debris and revealed her heart, he knew it would break his if he had found out that hers was not gold but pyrite. He had encouraged Arthur to pursue her and he didn't want to add himself to the list of Arthur's liabilities.

It could only be solved by two irritants: Time combined with observation. He decided that the only thing he could do was to watch her and see for himself if she was the woman that he thought she was. It felt like a good decision and it freed him to deal with the other problem. That didn't mean he wasn't annoyed with having something more on his "to do" list. He was making himself a list of duties that had long rivaled Arthur's in complexity. At least he didn't have to pretend he was actually compensated for his efforts, his reward would be to finally be at peace.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Gwaine felt that talking had produced something worthy. Once again his spirits were lifted as he went off in search for Merlin. It didn't matter much that Arthur and some of his fellow knights were along for the ride, after they found Merlin – they were all welcome to grace the tavern and celebrate the return of Camelots good luck charm.

He could relax into his good looks and natural playfulness once his friend was home and together they would conquer the hearts of the ladies. Now that Merlin was legal, he could boast and he was sure to have tales to make a maiden's heart pound in appreciation of his heroism. Gwaine would encourage, keep the boy pliant with ample alcohol, and that would be that. With a woman and maybe a family, Merlin wouldn't try this running away business again. Gwaine would have him tied with a ball and chain if need be – because the boy reeked of responsibility. He might as well use that talent to his own ends. He had gotten Elyan married to a buxom beauty who worshiped her knight-in-shining-armor so that he wouldn't run off and join his sister in exile without much coin spent on alcohol. Merlin only needed to have a drink spilled on him to get him properly marinated.

The grin under the beard was wicked.

They were heading towards the crystal cave with only a vague idea of where it was from Gaius's description. Arthur had once been near to the cave, but he had been wounded. He was only fully himself when he left the area, but the man was a true huntsman. He knew his forest, he knew his kingdom, and even if there were secret pockets where magic resided – Gwaine had faith that Arthur would find his prey.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

He had been to the Valley of the Fallen Kings so many times before, he was sure he would be able to find the Crystal Cave. Gaius had told Arthur a story of a panicked and miserable manservant who had despaired over a prince's injury. He had spoke of Merlin's experience with a shade of a sorcerer who had led Merlin to the Crystal Cave and the emotionally horrific experience Merlin had suffered because of knowledge gained by gazing into the crystals. Arthur remembered Merlin's intensity. His demeanor had changed so much that Arthur had worried that Merlin would leave him. Arthur had assumed it was because of being alone and frightened while Arthur was unconscious, but he had blamed it on Merlin's superstitions. He hadn't known what had frightened Merlin or the depth of his worry.

Despite knowing the way, Arthur found the journey difficult. He and a small, but highly trained assortment of knights found themselves not being able to navigate the forest to the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Arthur took that as a sign that Merlin probably was there. He cursed at magic, but not in the way that his father would have. He cursed at magic for denying the rightful king of the land access to an area.

"I thought you investigated every inch of Camelot?" complained Gwaine – again!

Leon and Gwaine's exchanges had been declining as the day went on. While Arthur agreed with Gwaine that this area had been on the "SEARCH" list, he still favored Leon over the usually partially pickled knight.

"If the area had been searched properly, Merlin would have been found!" accused Gwaine – again!

Leon insisted the valley had been searched and that there was no sign of Merlin, but Gwaine was full of doubt. Arthur called for silence and dismounted as he paced down the path and back again. They had been this way before. They were going in circles. The winter sky was threatening them with darkness and they still had not managed to enter the valley. The air was cool and damp against Arthur's temper heated skin. It was comfortable now, but at this rate they would have to set up camp and stay over night despite the fact that they should have entered the valley hours ago.

The valley was famous due to the legends that surrounded the area. It was unlikely that they would be attacked in the night by common road bandits, however the truly brave and the very desperate might take the risk. There were also Morganna's followers, who were also not to be ignored. She might be missing, but she wasn't dead. Arthur commanded that they stop and set up camp. A stiff wind picked up and scattered newly torn leaves from the boughs that swayed dramatically the silky sounds of the blown leaves could not drown out the sounds of the angry Gwaine's cursing.

It was cold, but Arthur didn't mind.

The knights settled down soon after the camp fire was lit. Percival had volunteered his culinary skills after Arthur had commented that he had never had to prepare a meal on a quest. The large knight awkwardly stuck food into a boiling pot of stream water. It didn't smell great, but then again Arthur's nose and tastes had become accustomed to the culinary attempts of his missing manservant.

There was one small thing to be grateful for as the sky darkened and became a starry canopy, Gwaine stopped complaining and settled into a silent, but arrogant sulk. He was acting more and more like a man of privilege. Arthur blamed Merlin. Common born Gwaine could not possibly be able to master the haughtiness of the nobility unless Merlin had spoiled him. As a self proclaimed best mate of the secret warlock, Arthur had no doubt that Merlin's attention was the cause. The reformation of that attitude, would be just one more thing that Merlin would have to be responsible for after he was dragged back to Camelot.

Arthur certainly did not want to waste any energy or effort in correcting the surly knight. He pondered what he would Merlin to do first as he stared at his cooling bowl of lumpy stew that a stoney-faced Percival had given him. The first bite was a punishment, the second was a promise that this was an achievement of undeniable failure. Arthur ate it anyway, for even though it tasted worse than rat stew, it still brought forth memories of all the odd things Merlin had served to him as food. If his guts did not liquify from the meal, he would attempt sleep and then work out a way into the Valley of the Fallen Kings in the morning when his determination was fresh.

* * *

He tried. He had tried so hard to kill – using magic as his weapon! And now, he stood with his back against the wall as his frustration marred his normally smooth face. She didn't feel as if she knew him at all, and she was frightened of him. She felt like she was in a nightmare. She was actually frightened of Merlin! This was the same dread that she had once felt when she was discovering Morganna's magic.

She begged Mordred to run away and promised the boy that she would be fine. She wasn't sure if that was true, but some affection for her must still linger in Merlin's heart. They were friends – or at least they had been friends. Gwen did not fight her tears that swelled in her eyes and ran in rivulets down her cheeks.

She threw herself towards Merlin as Mordred exited the building. She would be alone – with a sorcerer. Mordred's magic suited him. Druids had magic naturally. Everyone knew that. They grew up with it and were, according to Arthur, peaceful if not provoked or hunted.

Nothing could have prepared her for Merlin's recoil from her touch. He had shoved her away and looked at her as if she had dirtied him. He stared at her, his beautiful features twisting into disgust. She found herself repeating, "Merlin you don't look well," as well as "Why would you attack Mordred? He is just a boy," followed by "Let me help you." Yet, by the expression on his face, she knew he hadn't really heard her.

His clothing was torn and the exposed skin looked torn as if he had been thrown through thick brush adorned with many thorns. His skin was shiny from sweat and it wasn't his usual pallor. He was so pale he seemed stained with a slight tinge of blue. Despite these things, he was still as beautiful as the day when she first noticed him. However her appreciation of him had been replaced by fear. He was angry now and he had magic. Merlin, at some point, had become a sorcerer. Nothing could have surprised her more.

After much pleading and attempts to reach Merlin's heart, he spoke to her, "You let him get away! You _helped _him get away!"

Gwen cried out and raised her hands before her as if she could protect herself, but she knew it was futile. She sobbed as waves of fear crashed over her. _This couldn't possibly be happening!_

Gwen was confused. It wasn't as if Mordred had done anything wrong. Merlin didn't really know the boy. She did not understand him anymore. It seemed that King Uther was right when he said that no one could know the heart of a sorcerer and that they were capable of limitless evil. Somewhere in her heart, she felt something snap as sadness created a yawning chasm that promised to swallow her entire being in despair.

Dewey with fever, he raged at her, but he didn't attack her. He just yelled and then he went silent. Leaning against the filthy wall, he deflated. The sigh that had escaped from him worried her, for she feared that he had let all his breath out and was about to fall down dead. When his eyes hastily opened and his glare was replaced with a calm, but sad expression – she felt her legs turn to jelly.

His eyes still had the ability to disarm her, but now she felt as if he could see right through her.

"Merlin? Are you alright?"

He grimaced before breathily answering, "I don't know."

He stared at her, shaking his head. She'd never felt more judged, even when Arthur had sent her away. She had been so brokenhearted and despaired that Arthur could not see her. He couldn't see how much she loved him or wanted him. Merlin, saw her, but what he saw in her – she did not want to know. For the first time in her life, she wished she was as the aristocratic class treated her kind - just an invisible servant.

She didn't remember what happened next with much detail. She only remembered following him. As they traveled, he barely spared her a few glances. Once she had starved to be seen by him, but that was long before Lancelot and a lifetime before Arthur. It was alarming to her that the man she once admired was no more. His magic felt like a threat. She didn't mention it. Gwen hoped that Merlin would think she was okay with his new skill, because she had been keeping company with a druid.

"I'm not sure what to do with you. You were supposed to be in Ealdor," complained Merlin in an almost nostalgic tone, but there was true resentment in his voice. "This just gives me one more thing to do. One more thing to worry about. Is it so hard to accept and be happy with anything that I have to give or are all my efforts for nothing? On top of that, you were living with him. I have no idea why you would do something like that."

Merlin spat out the words out as he walked. Gwen wanted to stop, but she found she couldn't. She wasn't sure if it were fear or magic. At this point, it didn't matter. Maybe her obedience and her friendship would calm him and he might just .. let her go? If the Merlin she once knew was still inside of him somewhere then there was a chance.

The dirt on the back of his neck mixed with the grime of the forest and the dust of the path - it stained the back of his neckerchief. Gwen stumbled behind him as he pushed his way through brush instead of walking on the path. She lift the hem of her heavy brocade skirts high as she navigated her way through obstacle after obstacle. Merlin seemed to have not one care for the hardship of others._ He might be dressed in homespun, but he had no appreciation for quality clothing!_

The sun dipped down into the treeline and it wasn't long until the sky was stained with the hues dying daylight. Night was coming and it would be much colder than it was now. The physical exercise had kept her warm, but she was growing tired. Soon the cold would creep through her sweaty clothes and she would be dangerously cold.

"Merlin, shouldn't we stop? Merlin?"

He ignored her. He had stopped responding to her. He would only mumble to himself or spit out words of disapproval to her. Muttering how he had to do something instead of chasing down Mordred. How Morganna was still a threat. He muttered and muttered, some of his words were unintelligible but the few she understood frightened her.

Her heart ached! Her friend was poisoned by magic! She began to cry.

Merlin ignored her tears and told her to hurry up.

She felt like she was being abducted! She was happy to share the shack with Mordred. Would he be the one to rescue her from Merlin? Was he able to counter Merlin's magic and survive the attempt? Or would he be one more man who forsake her wellbeing? She had told him to save himself, but she did not expect him to abandon her.

As the night pressed on, the path was more treacherous. Following Merlin was becoming more impossible. She wanted to stop. She told her body to stop, but she still followed him. She wasn't even sure how she was doing it. She was sure, now, that she had been enchanted. Gwen had no idea what Merlin was "going to do about her." The fact that he was thinking that he had to do something about her, was terrible.

Hope flickered in her heart when she saw the glow. There was someone out here. Someone with a campfire. Hope sputtered when she thought about who might at the campfire. Hope's wick slipped beneath a heavy layer of hardening wax when she considered what a normal person could do against a sorcerer.

For now, all she could do for herself was try to spark compassion from Merlin. She had to remind him of the friendship they once shared. She had to convince him that she was no threat to him so that she could escape.

"Merlin? Merlin. We need to be careful. There are people here. Merlin, there's a campfire," she warned him, hoping that this action would count for something.

He stopped and she was able to stop. Her legs throbbed. She was so cold. She wanted to collapse, but she didn't dare allow herself to crumple. It might be the last thing she ever did.

"Merlin?" she called out to him.

"Shhhh," was the only response. He reached behind him and took her hand in his. Despite how he looked, he was warm. Her body was so cold right now that the unexpected heat inspired heavier bone shattering shivers. She moved closer to him, fighting the urge to lean into his thin frame.

Carefully and with more thought, he led her quietly through the undergrowth of the forest. An arm encircled her waist as he lifted her up onto a stepping stone of the proper path once they had passed the unknown camp. She breathed out relief as she felt herself pressed against his side, but it was just a moments relief from the cold. As soon as he released her, the cold intensified.

Gwen had suffered through many winters. She hated the cold. She loved her father's forge. The intense heat was something she equated to safety, love, and comfort. She doubted she would ever feel warm again. She gave up on the idea of ever being safe again. As for love? She wasn't sure she even understood what love was anymore as she watched Merlin's back.

He was a man now, not a boy. The lines of his frame were so defined and not from malnutrition.

When he brought her to the cave, she had thought grimly. _ This is it._

* * *

_AN: I apologize for my absence. Had some issues that I had to contend with, but I'm back. The distraction is gone. This was a really hard chapter to write and I had to write it over and over again._

_Truthfully, I almost gave up on the story. Yes, I was that frustrated. I'm glad I finally cleared this hurdle.  
_

_I hope it isn't as awful as I fear._


	9. Chapter 9

A journey that should have only taken them half a day, had lasted three days! Arthur was furious. He had to send some men back to Camelot to return with supplies and a boy from the kitchens. It was a huge disappointment to discover that none of his men knew how to make food taste edible. It wasn't as if they were all bad. No. Instead their skills ranged from bad to verging on inedible. Arthur was cold, hungry, and planning all sorts of retribution on Merlin. When and if he found his friend, Merlin would get the telling off of his lifetime!

It was another day wasted and all they had to show for it was windburn and the promise of another bad dinner. Arthur was stewing in his own foul thoughts when Gwaine called out to him, "Hey Princess, it looks like we missed something here."

Even though the sun was fading, Arthur felt renewed. Gwaine's voice was full of hope and almost sounded cheerful. However when Arthur reached him, the knights face went dark.

"What have you found?" asked Arthur.

Gwaine's brow knit in frustration. He growled, "I was looking for berries for tonight's dinner. I figured they would be more edible than Leon's cooking and I ran into a trail. Do me a favor, Princess, back away towards the camp."

"I don't see a..."

"With all due respect, Sire. Back away," snapped the knight in a tone that noble's took with the peasant class.

"Gwaine, I..." Arthur went to correct them knight. He'd been to lenient with the man if he was going to continue to be so...

"Arthur, please, just back away. Something happened when you approached!" snapped Gwaine with more tolerance, but the bravado was still at maximum.

Arthur backed away, feeling like he had just been demoted from monarch to manservant.

Gwaine called out for him to stop. One by one, Gwaine called out to individual knights. He made some stay next to him. Others were told to stand with Arthur. Each looked to Arthur in confusion, but he signaled them to obey Gwaine. There was much talk, head scratching, and cursing. Arthur's patience was wearing thin.

"I demand to know what is going on!" shouted the surly pendragon. He puffed up, instinctively, ready to remind them just who was in charge by defeating each and every one of them. He put his hand on the hilt of his sword, but when his men turned to him with grim faces – he relaxed a little.

"You tell him," said a sheepish Percival to Leon, who was looking like he wanted to fade away.

"I'm going to tell him," declared Gwaine.

"No, I'll tell him," interrupted Elyan. The handsome dark skinned knight squared his broad shoulders and stepped towards Arthur, but Leon put a gloved hand on the soft spoken man's shoulder.

"I'll tell him. I'll tell him. It's my job," protested Leon.

"Will one of you just tell me?" huffed Arthur. He was growing more agitated by his men's behavior.

"Sire, Gwaine and Percival see a very obvious trail here," Leon informed him. Arthur strode towards his men who were glancing at the foliage around them. Well, everyone except for Gwaine. Gwaine just frowned at him and sighed. "Sire if we are to track the person who made the trail – ehm – you'll have to stay away from it."

"What nonsense are you spouting? I'm thee best tracker in the kingdom! It may have slipped your minds, but we're not here to track anyone. We're here to find Merlin. We need to concentrate on finding the entrance to the Valley of the Fallen Kings and..."

"Sire, we believe Merlin made this trail," sputtered Leon.

Arthur was now standing next to Leon. He looked around, but he saw no evidence of any trail made by a man, a beast, or by his clumsy friend Merlin. He barked about nonsense and dim witted knights who needed refresher courses on tracking. He spouted comments about idiocy that he would have loved to lavish on Merlin, but he didn't have control of his audience.

"Sire, the trail disappears when you are near," the words were punctuated with a flinch. Arthur knew his face had gone pale, but he nodded at Leon to continue. "The trail disappears when you come close. We... think.. that maybe Merlin made this trail and … that.. .you.. well some of us... well..," the hesitations were really not helping Arthur's mood, "maybe you aren't allowed to track Merlin. In fact, maybe you're not allowed in the Valley of the Fallen Kings? You did have the Valley searched and no one noticed or found a cave..."

Arthur wanted to _hit _something. No. He wanted to hit _someone_. No. He wanted to hit _Merlin_.

* * *

When they reached the cave, Merlin's self appointed sidhe personal assistant descended upon him. Glinde was the size of a firefly and she flitted obey his orders. She cast the release of the magic binding that he had placed on him. He slumped to the side and leaned on a rather large lump of magic crystal. It was a bad idea, his magic charged the crystal and the crystal magnified his own magic.

Gwen stared, not at Merlin, but at the cave itself.

Merlin hissed in pain as his amplified magic reverberated through his body and all the crystals in the cave reacted to his overflowing magic. They glowed in light blues, greens, and golds. Every scratch and scrape he had earned on his journey through the forest, opened. Flesh blood flowed and Glinde transformed into the size of an impossibly thin, blue, human child in order to tend to her master's physical distress.

Gwen screamed as the sidhe seemed to suddenly appear out of no where. Glinde's transformation into a human sized creature of magic had scared .. terrified... No. It stripped everything human away from Gwen as the simple woman went into her own personal nightmare.

It was the beginning of instense hatred for both the sidhe and the former maid servant.

Merlin muttered at his sidhe companion to be kind to Gwen even though his heart was conflicted about her. He couldn't make a hasty decision about her. She had no magic and even if he had been pressured to be the sidhe king, he could not pretend that her selfishness was a real threat. Arthur was selfish, but he was also giving. Gwen had the knack of saying the right thing at the right time. She had shown signs of knowing right from wrong. Could he hold her ambition and concern for her reputation and the want for a better life – against her? He had to think and for that he needed time. The magic that had suppressed his power enough so that he wouldn't be distracted from natural magic so that he could home in on dark magic and those badly spelled runes was still making him sick.

He glanced into a crystal, hoping to get an eyeful of Arthur – but his magic was still warped. It was flooding the room and the feedback obscured his vision. It _frustrated _him.

_Master _and _Lord Emrys _was how Glinde addressed Merlin no matter what how he scolded her. She delighted in negative attention as much as she did praise. He missed the smug looks she passed to Gwen as she tended to mending his skin and his clothes with a spectacular display of unrestrained magic. Gwen shrank into a corner, watching with fascination and revulsion.

Merlin thought back to before they had entered the Crystal Cave with Gwen and how she had trembled. She was cold and frightened and he had spared no time for explanations. His mind was sharpened and his magic restrained. He felt sick and he wasn't at his most considerate. At the time, he didn't feel as if she deserved any. As he regained his sense of self, he still didn't think he owed her anything. He had already done his best for her by having her stay with his mother. If only she had listened!

It wasn't long before he noticed that Gwen was a little too impressed. The crystals were pretty. The cave was warm... magically, thanks to Glinde taking care of the details. There were crystal bowls filled with nuts and fruits from the foreest and clean water to drink.

There were many firefly sized sidhe in the cave. Sidhe lights danced off the crystals. Some of the Sidhe had refused to stay at the lake in order to be near Emrys and now Merlin had a small army of vicious little blue beauties to keep him company. Merlin hadn't considered the impact of the cave's mystery and majesty on a simple peasant – who had ambitions.

Gwen eventually relaxed under the spell of wonder and awe. She often stood with her hands clasped over her heart with her mouth open as she took in the beauty of the cave even with a strange magical creature lavishing attention on Merlin. He had no idea how Gwen was interpreting all of this, but he spared no words to answer her questions.

He was exhausted and he was suffering from his last encounter with Morganna.

Merlin's head was still buzzing from everything. He knew Gwen was afraid of him after he attempted to kill Mordred. He had the boy dead to rights, but destiny denied his attempt. It was frustrating. What good was it to be a warlock if he didn't control his own destiny? Wasn't he supposed to guide Arthur to greatness? It would be difficult to do it from the cave, but in a way it was easier to do from here than by pretending to be an ordinary – unremarkable human.

Questions soon morphed into demanding explanations. Gwen wanted to know about the cave and what it was. She wanted to know why it was that he spent so many hours looking into crystals. She asked so many questions, but she never asked him about his magic. She never asked him why he tried to kill Mordred or what had brought him to her simple shack.

He still ignored her and did not bother to answer her nor did he offer any verbal comfort. The pain in his body had peaked. He might be Emrys, but he had torn his own soul when he made the cup's rain reverse Morganna's transformation. She had paid a price for her newly acquired power and skills. She had dehumanized herself to the brink of being one of the undead. Morganna wasn't dying when they fought. There was less of a price to pay, however he did use a piece of his own soul to make her – fully human. It was the only way to weaken her, but it weakened him as well. The men's souls that she had used, he had released by transferring his own magic into the rain. He had imbued the water with a property that was almost as cleansing as dragon fire, purifying the unholy so that those souls could finally find rest. The price, he paid it himself - as another rend in the fabric of his being had been made.

The effort had made him want to find eternal rest – not that it was an option. He knew deep down that he would never fully be able to pass from this world.

Even though he had asked Glinde not to hurt Gwen and to tend to her needs, he knew that it would be dangerous to leave the two of them together. He didn't have the energy to try to imagine the many loopholes that Glinde might reach for and he didn't want to imagine what might happen to Gwen.

He might have lost his illusions about her, but she was still the woman who Arthur loved. Arthur's pure heart was fed and nurtured by this woman's favor. Merlin shook his head as he thought about it. He knew that Kilgharrah's words about love were more true than his own existence. He would never understand the power of love or be able to craft it. It wasn't something he could influence. He had to treat it like magic.

It was a magic he had no control over.

Love was … a lovely enchantment as well as a curse as far as he was concerned.

Merlin stared into a crystal waiting for his vision to clear so that he could get a glimpse of Arthur. He had to know that his friend was alright. He had to know if he still had a role to play in the birth of Albion. His eyes flooded with tears of frustation every time Gwen opened her mouth and distracted him. He prayed to the gods for strength.

What he hadn't expected was Gwaine to find the cave. His friend had been searching for Merlin and had heard Gwen's voice as she made her demands for information Merlin did not have the energy to give. Even when she attempted to approach him kindly and with concern for his health, he still remained mute.

Merlin was cradling his head as he sank down in a squat in the middle of the cave. He rocked back and forth. He was considering asking Glinde to cast a silencing spell on his ears to block out the noise, but he was afraid she would cast the spell on Gwen instead. It was tempting, so tempting.

When Glinde flew to place herself between the knight and her master, Merlin looked up and took in the sight of a smiling and relieved knight of Camelot.

"Gwaine?" croaked Merlin in an almost relieved tone that prompted Glinde to relax, a little.

"Merlin!" cried Gwaine, he stepped forward causing Glinde to hiss a warning.

Gwen flung herself at the knight, "Oh thank the gods you are here! He kidnapped me! I..."

Gwaine immediately pushed her off and scowled at Gwen. She bit her lip and captured one of his hands in hers. He pulled away enough so that she couldn't launch herself into his arms. He did allow her to hold his hand, but she released the captured hand. She backed away from him, "He's enchanted you. He's gotten to you as well!"

"What the..." complained Gwaine.

"What am I going to do?" she cried, shrinking even further away.

"You can be quiet. I need to talk to Merlin," said Gwaine carefully and firmly. Gwen stopped her theatrics and stood bravely – despite her quivering lip.

Merlin frowned at her as he looked up at her. His head was bent as he did not have the energy to lift it fully. He was unaware that this gave him the appearance of glowering at her. She had seemed to be enthralled with the beauty of the cave, but now that a knight of Camelot showed up – she immediately acted like a victim? He huffed causing his lungs in his chest to spasm. He began to cough. He broke eye contact with Gwen, his concern switching to whether or not his ribs were going to crack.

"How did you find me?" asked Merlin, miserably, after his coughing subsided. His voice craggley, his despair broadening as his breath hitched again. He began to wheeze.

Gwaine gave him a small smile, "Arthur, Leon and Elyan could not see your trail, but I could." He didn't mention Percival - who could also see the trail. "Arthur's a little upset that you went as far as to enchant yourself so you couldn't be tracked by him. He's worried about you, mate. He wants you to come home."

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AN: if you post a review/question as a Guest, I can't answer your question.

_Where's the Bromance?_ Give it time, there wouldn't be a story if I just jumped into it.

_Is this depressing?_ I can't say one way or another or you'll know where this is going.

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All reviews are appreciated, please note: if you ask a question I rather answer in a PM.


	10. Chapter 10

He tried to talk to Merlin, but something was obviously wrong. Gwaine had embraced the frail warlock and ruffled his dark hair – trying to reassure the boy that everything was going to be okay. It warmed his heart when Merlin returned the hug and rested his chin on Gwaine's armored shoulder. Honestly, Gwaine couldn't imagine that he was comfortable to hug in plate armor, however Merlin didn't seem to mind much.

There was a small magical creature who hovered disapprovingly near Merlin's back giving Gwaine a dirty look. When Gwaine looked over at Gwen, he saw that she was watching the scene with suspicion

"You have to eat," insisted a tiny blue thin female – what ever she was – to Merlin. She pulled Merlin away from Gwaine, looking over her master – as if checking for damage or contamination. Merlin turned away from Gwaine and the creature, but she flew before him so that she could thrust a dull looking raw crystal bowl in his face insisting with her harsh voice, "You'll feel better if you eat."

"Feed Gwaine and Gwen," muttered Merlin in barely audible tones, "I'm tired. Leave me alone. I'll eat when I wake up."

He felt helpless. He wanted to take his friend back to Camelot, but it didn't look like that was going to happen as long as Merlin wasn't well. Gwaine watched as Merlin went to stretch out on the cave floor. A cloth of brightly woven fabric appeared beneath his friend's body – another hovered until Merlin settled into position and then it fluttered down elegantly. At first Gwaine thought it was Glinde who had done the magic, but it seemed that Merlin had been tucked-in by fireflies. The fireflies encircled the boy, their lights dimming, as he drifted to sleep.

Gwaine was sitting next to Gwen, who hadn't stopped fidgeting with the fabric of her skirts. When the little blue servant approached them with two bowls – Gwaine accepted them both graciously. He handed one to Gwen. He half expected her not to take the bowl, but she surprised him. Her small trembling hands cradled the bowl, but she rested it in her lap. Apparently she was going to wait for him to taste his first.

"Thank you. I appreciate it," he said to the creature. He wasn't sure how far politeness or charm would work on her, but he was giving it a shot. Her strange face that had been twisted in disapproval took on a more thoughtful look, but the surly creature did not speak to him. He tried not to stare at her overly large ears that only seemed larger thanks to the strange cap on her head. Gwaine glanced into the bowl, his dinner was an assortment of glistening nuts and berries. He took the spoon, that had been stabbed into the center of the bowl and shoveled a large portion into his mouth. He smiled his best charming smile, "It is good! You added the perfect amount of honey!"

The creature's face briefly smiled, but only for a second. She nodded at Gwaine, almost disrespectfully, and flew on her iridescent wings to take a protective position near Merlin's sleeping form.

"He likes porridge," Gwaine said in conversation tones to the blue creature. "He puts fruits, nuts, and honey - _on_ the porridge. So this, is extra special. It's his favorite topping," He took another mouthful and chewed gratefully. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gwen taste her own dinner. He then declared,"This is good but I'm thirsty."

Two large goblets of rough crystal, lined with imperfections, and a matching picher filled with water appeared near his feet.

"Thank you, that was kind of you," said Gwaine putting his bowl aside for a moment so that he could pour water into the goblets. "I was worried about him, but now I see he has you to care for him. It puts me at ease."

The creature rewarded him with a smug look.

Gwen ate daintily, but quickly. Gwaine wondered if she had been accepting food from Merlin or if she had been too frightened to eat. He ate his food quickly, it was definitely better than what he been offered over the last few days – admittedly his own cooking skills were lacking. It had been quite some time since he had to cook for himself. When he was on his own, he preferred the warmth and social atmosphere of a pub or an inn and after he joined the ranks of Arthur's knights - Merlin did all the cooking and fussing.

Merlin's sense of duty had always impressed Gwaine.

* * *

All of his hopes rest in Gwaine's hands and this was not something that gave him a lot of hope. It wasn't that he did not believe that Gwaine wanted Merlin to come home as much as he did, but he was familiar with Merlin's stubbornness. He wasn't confident that Gwaine could bring Merlin back.

Merlin had to come back. There were too many unanswered questions, too much he still had to say to his friend, and there were answers that he couldn't face without Merlin at his side. Arthur did not trust himself at the moment. Merlin had broken his oath to stay by his side and he didn't know why. Merlin had often criticized him, but he had also protected him. Arthur despaired over whether or not he was worth such devotion and what Merlin's abandoning him might mean.

There was another problem that waited for him when he returned to Camelot. He did not know how to handle Hunith's request for employment. He couldn't bring himself to hire Merlin's mother as a servant. She was a strong woman who had been living a life of hard labor and he did not intend for her to struggle for the rest of her life. Merlin's service to him gave him a debt that could never be repaid, even if he had two lifetimes to dedicate to the task.

Consulting Gaius was a thought that flitted briefly in his brain before it flew away into obscurity. Even the old physician admitted that Merlin's reasoning was a mystery. They had spoken often since Merlin's leave of absence about the unique nature of Merlin's personal philosophies and neither Arthur or Gaius could claim that they could predict Merlin's thoughts. He was always surprising, always challenging, and always withholding the full impact of his own truth.

Arthur did not want to insult Hunith, but he also did not want to put her in a position where she would have no status. She was the mother of his precious friend. She was also the mother of the most powerful warlock who would ever walk the earth. She was the one who shaped Merlin's mind and protected him from a harsh world that would execute him for the crime of being. She taught him how to be giving and selfless. She was the one who sent Merlin to Camelot. Arthur would have never of known Merlin if it wasn't for this woman's courage and her faith in her son's ability to thrive in Camelot.

He just couldn't make such a magnificent and yet humble woman into a servant and yet she had requested a job so that she could serve in his household. He did not want her to want for anything and he didn't want her to have to continue a life of hard labor.

He stared out of his window at his courtyard watching the activity of his people. The panes of his window were decorated by the touch of a light frost. Soon winter would be here and that humble woman might not properly heat her home if she despaired that she had no income. He imagined her worrying about paying her rent, the taxes of the kingdom, and hoarding the small purse he had granted her for Merlin's service. Arthur's guts twisted. He could also imagine her not spending the purse because she believed that she was merely holding the coins for her son.

He pressed his royal forehead to the cold pane. The sensation was refreshing and relieved the pain in his head. He had to make a decision. He had to come up with an answer. He couldn't wait for Merlin to return.

_Merlin wouldn't say what to do about his mother._

_Merlin wouldn't suggest anything. _

_Merlin would take on the burden himself._

_This was a problem that would not solve itself._

* * *

"What's wrong with him?" asked Gwaine to the creature who called herself Glinde.

The creature was blotting sweat from her master's forehead with reverence, but she answered his question, "He is ill from doing what only he can. He injured himself and now yearns for a solution."

Gwaine did not like the answer. It was cryptic. It was an answer that only inspired more questions, "He seems to be getting worse. Is there anything that I can do to help him?"

"You do not have the power," she said with confidence and that made him angry.

"But there is something that could help him?" pressed the knight.

Gwen muttered under her breath about futility and magic, Gwaine ignored her. He needed to press the magical being for answers. He hoped that if he could solve Merlin's problem, Merlin might return to Camelot with him.

"Only Emrys can help Emrys. He is the King of Ages. He is the One. He is a perfect being and he has torn his soul in his service to a mere mortal. Tell me, Knight, do you know how to mend such an injury? Can you heal that which you cannot touch? Can you reweave the fabric of his being? You don't even have magic. You cannot even understand what he is."

"I understand _Merlin_ just fine!" spat the knight in a low but gruff voice, "He's a good man. He's my best friend. He's the one who gave me purpose. He stood up for me. He knows what I am and he does not judge me. He saved me from a life of wandering. I might not have magic or know how to use it, but understand this – I would do anything to help him. Anything!"

The creature turned her back to him and continued to dab a cloth to Merlin's pale and dewy face. She paused after a while and hung her head. She admitted, "I also do not wish for my lord to suffer." Frustration bubbled in Gwaine. She continued, "There might be one way to heal him, but he would not approve. He already turned down the suggestion."

"And that is?" pressed the knight.

"If we take him to Avalon, he might be healed by basking in the power of the Gate that separates your world from mine. The source of the wellspring that feeds the Cup, the magic that only He has mastered springs forth from the Cup. The Cup was created by the Sidhe and it was stolen by humans who called themselves priestesses of the Old Religion. For us, it was a tool of rejuvenation. For humans it was a way to cheat death, even though it taxed the Old Religion and required a heavy price. For the Sidhe, it focused our souls as we do not crave life, but instead revel in our immortality. We are neither living or dead, we are Eternal. Emrys used the power over life and death to repair a soul and used his soul to give the magic power. The Old Religion is fading, but as our king, he has the ability to use our power."

Gwaine didn't understand. _Merlin was a king? What magic? What power? He used his own soul?_

Gwen had gasped and was now holding her hands over her mouth.

Gwaine shrugged, "I admit I don't quite understand what you just told me. If he needs to go to Avalon, then lets take him to Avalon. I'll apologize to him if he doesn't like it."

The creature smiled exposing her sharp pointy teeth to the human guests, "I will bring you there."


	11. Chapter 11

Merlin hadn't just transformed the the world wasn't just a grim, gray pit of depression for just one Pendragon. He had managed to plummet Morganna's cold black heart into the depths of despair and Lord Aggravaine feared that she'd never recover. The boy sure had talent if he could affect her – and he had so deeply that there was nothing that Aggravaine could say or do to stir her from her self pity.

He had tried to influence Arthur by pointing out Merlin's treachery for hiding his magic, but that had gotten him thrown into the dungeon for a week.

Since then, he could think of nothing he could do to please his mistress. Merlin wasn't around to take revenge on.

Magic was allowed now. He couldn't even recruit sorcerers to plot with or send to Morganna to support her.

Arthur was too well guarded for him to attack and he couldn't risk attacking him anyway. The boy was too good of a fighter. Only Morganna could handle the boy.

Winter was almost here and despite the issues with the magic storm, the kingdom was well supplied.

He couldn't sabotage anything.

Frequent trips to Morganna's hiding spot to check on her and force her to eat was all he could do to help her. She was barely eating. It was as if her reason for living had abandoned her. Her beauty had not faded, if anything, she was more beautiful than ever before. Her features were more fine and delicate than ever before. Although the will to live seemed to have forsaken her, she had never seemed more alive. There was a flush to cheeks, that fanned his affection for her. He knew it was because she was running a fever. He knew that a fever was dangerous, but it was no more deadly than to love her.

If she died, he would soon follow. He vowed that to the gods with all of his heart.

He had to do something to please her. He had to do something to shake her from her depression. He had to give her some hope. He had to reinstate her purpose.

Aggravaine sat in his chambers and sulked. No servant had even bothered coming to light the fire in his hearth any more. He refused to do it himself lately and he didn't bother mentioning it to his nephew. Arthur stopped listening to him after he tried to discredit thee precious Merlin. He was planning on going to see Morganna today and it wasn't worth the effort to light the stupid fire, even if it the action did waist a bit of the castle's resources.

The dark blue blanket on his bed called to him. It seemed to beckon to him. It promised to ward off the chill of the room. It promised rest. His eyes lingered on it as he imagined all the virtues of his bed, but his heart yearned more for his mistress. Morganna needed him more than he needed warmth. He leaned back in the stiff-backed wooden chair and raised a goblet of stale wine to his lips as he looked out into the annoyingly busy courtyard.

_Arthur's subjects – those inspired and devoted – ready to die for him rather than bow to the lovely Morganna... oh..._

Aggravaine's eyes drank in a single form that he knew by description. Geoffrey had a gift for turning words into paintings. Thanks to that man, Aggravaine did not need any confirmation. He knew at an instant what figure it was that gracefully carried a small basket across the courtyard and of all the people in Camelot – this one was probably the most important. She was the most vulnerable and yet most strategic target. If he struck her down, he could break the warlock who broke his mistress.

* * *

As someone with much experience either being drunk or walking home a drunk man, Gwaine hitched one of Merlin's arm's around his shoulders and held his arm tight in his hand while wrapping an arm around his waste. And while this was an expert way of walking with a drunk man, but it was a difficult way to walking a sick man. Merlin was having difficulty moving his feet and his head bobbed against Gwaine's shoulder between moments of consciousness. Just like a drunk man, Merlin would have to have a moment here and there to empty his stomach even though there was little in it, which concerned the knight. However as a sick man, Merlin was shuddering in a way that frightened Gwaine. His skin was hot, but he would then go cold. He had asked why Gwaine wasn't letting him sleep, but hadn't been able to stay awake long enough to hear the answer.

This only strengthened Gwaine's determination to find this Avalon place and cure his friend. He felt a little guilty for dragging Merlin's stumbling feet and hauling the boy like a life-sized doll. The only alternative was to carry Merlin like a maiden and risk bashing his head or feet into branches or trees – or be caught unawares by bandits. Glinde admitted that she was forbidden to strike at nonmagic humans and if his arms were full of Merlin then he would have to drop or jolt him – in order to defend their cheerful traveling group.

On the topic of _cheerful_, Gwen was crying – again. Apparently she could not stay at the cave as Gwaine suggested. Merlin must have spelled her to stay with him. She couldn't seem to stray more than 50 feet from him without being compelled to return to him. She complained loudly and cried bitterly. She resented this treatment and had begun to voice her suspicions to Gwaine that she thought he was also enchanted. He had tried talking to her, but he was starting to lose patience with her. She was starting to sound like Uther and he just did not feel like fighting with the paranoid.

The sidhe lady was leading the way and she wasn't making it easy. She flew over rocks and not around them. Gwaine wasn't willing to harm his friend and so he skirted around obstacles as quickly as he could, but it wasn't satisfactory enough. The sidhe lady tutted at his efforts if she had to pause to wait for any length of time. Of course any opportunity she got to tut was combined with spectacular display of menace or disapproval directed at Gwen and that, of course, inspired more tears and whinging.

"Gwen! Stop reacting to her, it's what she wants! You're unhappy. She doesn't like you because you don't like Merlin because he has magic. She's mad at you so she's teasing you. You're smarter than this. Stop reaching for the bait!" growled Gwaine, frustrated. Merlin had started whimpering like an injured puppy and his concern for Merlin had worn his nerves down. He was beginning to worry that his friend would not make it to Avalon.

She whirled on him in a flurry of brocade and scowl. Her eyes red and her little hands were clenched in rage, "You say that, but you're still obeying her! You don't seem to mind that I'm enchanted. I tried to walk away and I cannot! How do you know you're not enchanted?! I keep telling you that you're enchanted and you don't react. You ignore me. You just keep going and now you're taking her side!"

Faint wheezing followed her tirade. Merlin had raised his head to stare at Gwen. There was a new crackling in his chest. Gwaine was too busy watching his sick friend to notice anything. The dark branches of his lifeblood were visible as if pressed against his glistening translucent skin.

"This is my decision and it's fine," gurgled Merlin. "You shouldn't go back to Mordred."

"Who are you to tell me what to do?" demanded Gwen.

"I didn't enchant you, Gwen."

"I don't believe you!" she cried at Merlin.

He shook his head sadly. His head rolling disturbingly on his neck as if it would fall off. He asked Gwaine, "Why aren't we in the cave? We aren't going to Camelot are we? I can't go back...,"

Deciding it was time to rest, Gwaine slid his friend down to the forest floor and propped Merlin's thin frame against a tree. He wasn't as physically tired as much as he was emotionally spent. Even without Gwen falling apart, Merlin's condition was enough to unravel the coldest man. Gwaine wasn't cold, in fact he was quite passionate. His heart was fully invested in feeling. Once he discovered friendship he decided to hold onto it with both hands and get as much strength as he could from it. This was killing him. He was supposed to be bringing Merlin back to Camelot, but from what Glinde told him – it would be an act of futility. Gaius couldn't heal this, only magic could.

Gwaine brought up his water skin to Merlin's lips, but the boy turned his head refusing to drink.

"Please, Merlin."

"No."

"We're not going to Camelot. We probably have a long way to go, this is a short stop. You need to drink," pleaded Gwaine.

Merlin's eyes were narrow, his brain was working in overdrive, "Where are we going? I need the crystals. I need to watch Arthur's enemies."

That surprised Gwaine. Merlin was still watching over Arthur? He grinned. He shouldn't have been surprised. He was happy. He was so happy he had to contain it, he almost reached out to slap some pats on his friend's shoulders. However, the action would probably dislocate appendage from the socket so he resisted. With a smile, he explained, "We're going to get you well. We're going to get the sidhe to heal you. We're going to Avalon."

"NO!" snapped Merlin. He was unhappy. He shook his head as if someone just offered him a meal of uncooked, unskinned deer meat for dinner. "No, I don't want to go to Avalon. I don't want to go to Avalon. Gwaine, turn around. Bring me back to the cave. I want to go back to the cave! I want to go back to the cave! Gwaine!"

Gwen watched the exchange with interest.

Merlin started to heave, but he didn't vomit the contents of his stomach. It was the first time he ever had a witness to this event. He folded his body forward until he was on his knees with his hands placed on the spongy forest floor. With glowing eyes, he arched his back towards the sky and then dropped it towards the ground. Shuddering in a series of spasms, Merlin spontaneously purged some of his magic. Despite the cold, moss thickened, flowers bloomed, and bushes sprang into life. Vines twined ecstatically up trees that had suddenly thickened and bolted into twice the girth and size that they were before. Everything around them was green and lush.

Gwaine had an overwhelming feeling of well-being. He felt refreshed. He had never felt more alive in his entire life. It was as if he had reborn.

A whine escaped Merlin's mouth, "No, no, no... I'm sorry. So sorry. Please don't be scared."

A female was weeping, but it wasn't Gwen. Glinde was on her knees with her forehead pressed to the ground. She kept muttering, "Thank you my Lord for this blessing..." which was quite disturbing. It wasn't as if Gwaine didn't understand her feelings, but she was half treating Merlin like a king and half treating him like a god. Merlin was Merlin. Yes, he was magic, but she needed to get a grip on herself. She had magic as well, she needed to shake this off and be more useful.

Gwaine hauled Merlin to his feet, he figured he would take advantage of Merlin's condition. If his friend had vomited magic, he might be weak and might not be able to make Gwaine obey him. Gwaine slung Merlin over his shoulder again and barked at Glinde to get it together.

The sidhe began to lead them down the path, but then Merlin started to resist again.

"No, no, no..." complained Merlin. "Glinde, I don't want to go to Avalon."

"She's not taking to Avalon. I am. Technically she's not disobeying you."

"Glinde, don't lead him to Avalon," commanded Merlin.

She stopped.

"Glinde, lead on," urged Gwaine, but the slight sidhe female wouldn't budge.

"I can't. My Lord commanded me," came the sad reply.

His burden gave a sigh of relief, but Gwaine wasn't about to give up. He kept moving in the direction that the sidhe had been moving in. He put one foot in front of the other. "Fine, if she won't show me, I'll guess. I have an idea of what direction it's in... and if you won't tell me or won't allow her to show me... We'll travel. Gwen and I won't rest. We'll walk and the longer we walk the longer you'll be away from your crystals. You don't want to enchant your friends do you? Force us to obey with magic? Do you?"

A low moan escaped from Merlin's lips. Gwaine knew he had struck a blow straight to his friend's vitals, but he wasn't going to give in even if his friend cried. He moved passed Glinde who had her head down in shame. He wasn't going to give in.

"Please... no," moaned Merlin. "I don't want to go. I really don't."

"There's lots of things I don't want to do, Merlin. Yet I do them," countered the knight.

Gwen marched along beside them quietly, carefully holding up the delicate hem of her brocade skirts saving it from the filth of the forest floor.

Eventually Merlin's protests faded. The gentle weight of Merlin's head rested on Gwaine's shoulder and sure enough, snuffling began. Heart strings pulled, but the power of guilt did not overpower the sense of responsibility Gwaine felt for the overall health for his friend. Merlin had torn his soul fighting Morganna. He wasn't about to allow Merlin to continue to less than whole.

"We'll get there faster if you allow Glinde to show me the way. After that, we'll talk about the crystal cave, but Merlin. I'm not going to give on this. This is making you sick, you need to be healed. Even if you never forgive me, Merlin, I am doing this for your own good."

"Okay. Fine," muttered Merlin, miserably.

* * *

?


	12. Chapter 12

"So, this is it?" asked Gwaine as Glinde pointed at a distant lake.

Merlin sighed defeated, "Yeah. You and Gwen can stay here. I'll go by myself with Glinde and..."

"Not a chance," snapped Gwaine. "I want to make sure you get healed. You can't walk on your own anymore. You say you want to look after Arthur? You can't like this. You have to be healed. This is for your own good."

"Like you would know! You don't know anything about magic or me," huffled the warlock, nervously glancing about. Gwaine held him tightly around the waist confident that Merlin wouldn't try to use magic against him. He wanted Merlin to realize he would have to seriously harm him in order to escape.

"I'm not letting you go. You have to do this," said Gwaine.

"Who said? You? I can escape. I'm not weak," muttered Merlin nervously. "You can't make me do this. You can't."

"Merlin, you and I both know that we're friends and..."

"I could knock you out!" snapped Merlin weakly, swaying against Gwaine who was advancing towards the lake despite Merlin's increased shuddering. It was a pathetic attempt at bravado.

"No you wouldn't."

"I would."

"You wouldn't."

I have done it before. I've even done it to Arthur. Anytime I needed to use magic to save your asses, I...,"

Gwaine laughed, "Yeah Merlin, to save OUR asses, not yours. You're not hurt me to save yourself. You're not the kind. You're innocent. You have a heart of gold. You're pure."

"I am not innocent. You need to stop thinking that way about me. I'm not as good as you think I am. Hey stop laughing! I'm serious here! Gwaine! It's not funny," sniffed Merlin, welling up with tears again. Slumping completely against the handsome knight's side. "You got me all wrong. I swear and besides, I don't mock you for .. well... being you."

"You do, but I love you for it. You're my best mate."

"Please, Gwaine, don't do this," begged Merlin, again.

Gwaine simply smiled his best, it was his signature that he normally flashed at the prettiest barmaids or someone that just caught him cheating at cards or dice. Gwen coughed in attempt to hide a laugh. Even she had the courtesy to hide her amusement at the lack of Merlin's power in the circumstances. She hadn't cried or moaned about her company in quite some time, which in itself felt like a gift from the gods.

A weak but frigid wind blew across the mirror surface of the lake, but the surface remained smooth as a mirror. It was silvery gray, matching the sky overhead. There was a thin mist that clung to the grasses at the edge of the water but did not venture past the border of the slight shoreline. Gwen stopped walking and sat demurely in the mist on a small rock. She arranged her skirt and gave Gwaine a weak smile as he continued to lug his burden forward, despite the fact that Merlin had found enough strength to squirm with futility in the larger man's arms.

"What do I do?" Gwaine asked Glinde, ignoring Merlin's rude suggestion of what he could do and where he could go. Gwaine swept Merlin into his arms, carrying him like a bride in his arms.

"Walk deep into the lake, human hero," instructed Glinde.

Impressed with Merlin's spirit, but not wanting to acknowledge it for risk of distraction – Gwaine began to walk out into the lake upon Glinde's urging. Merlin began cursing more loudly and then he pleaded in a full panic, "No, oh no! Wait! No! Don't! Don't do this. This isn't right. Glinde, you know better!"

"He said he would do anything and you gave permission back in the forest," said the sidhe. "If you don't want this, you have to heal yourself."

Gwaine ignored their words as he walked forward, armor and all. This was for Merlin and even if he did not fully trust the sidhe, he trusted her enough to know she was fully on Merlin's side. He didn't care what happened to himself, he had meant what he said. He would do anything for Merlin even if he had to drown himself.

Merlin kicked weakly as the knight walked deeper into the lake. "I can't heal myself! You know that! You know what will happen. Stop this. Stop it. I don't want this! Glinde, stop him! I command you!"

"You previous permission nullifies that command."

"Oh no you don't!" panicked Merlin, his eyes rolling back into his head but they were flickering. Granted they were dully flickering. With the control of his magic failing he did something Gwaine did not expect, he roared. As impressive as the sound was, Gwaine did not hesitate. He kept walking into the lake. Merlin begged him to stop, pushing away from the knight but the arms that held him were as strong as the steel that encased them.

Merlin's palms slipped against the smooth metal as he pushed against the metal shoulders, which were now wet with water. Gwaine kept walking. The sidhe did not say to stop walking so he kept walking. He was a little worried about Merlin, but he started to think that this was the type of cure that required a sacrifice – like the torn veil. Giving himself for Merlin was something he was honored to do.

Merlin was sobbing now, the struggle had gone out of him. He lay limply in Gwaine's arms, his head coldly against Gwaine's cheek as the freezing water slowly swallowed both of them, "Kilgharrah please get here in time. Gwaine I can't lose you. You can't die on me. Not like this. I can't let you give your life for me, not like this. I can't allow this. Please, you can't do this to me. I can't lose you too. I don't want to lose you like this. You're so stubborn! Stop walking! Just talk to me about this first! Stop walking! Gwaine! Stop! Gwaine! STOP! You don't know what you're doing! She's tricking you!"

"You will be healed," said Gwaine in a tender tone of voice as the water came up to his neck. He gave Merlin a charming flash of teeth and a look that said that he was sorry, but he didn't stop walking. With the next step, both warlock and knight of Camelot disappeared under the surface of the lake.

* * *

Just like her son, Hunith spent a great deal of time picking herbs for Gaius. Abducting her was easy. She even welcomed the offer of getting a ride back to the castle. She hadn't expected the blow to the back of the head as she mounted the horse in-front of him. The simple woman lay limpy against him, but with her basket secure and no sign of a struggle... it would be difficult for anyone to find any sign of anything insidious.

The humble woman had such a soothing voice and a trusting demeanor. The soft lines around her eyes had been etched from having a life of worry, but finding reasons to smile despite that. This arrogantly optimistic and good natured woman would be the perfect sacrifice to enrage Camelot. Her death would shake the new king, destroy the confidence of the warlock, and it would show the commoners that with all this power – this new monarchy couldn't even protect this humble and good woman.

There were many in the kingdom who were less worthy of protection and less connected to affection.

He wished he had thought of this earlier.

Morganna might not have had to suffer.

Aggravaine's heart soared with triumph as he steered his mount towards Morganna's hideout. His enchanted horseshoes would leave no trail.

He only hoped that his mistress would like his gift and delight in taking her revenge with her own fragile little hands.

* * *

Gaius had fallen asleep at his work station while reducing willow bark water – and he woke with such a violent start that he had knocked his own chair out from underneath himself as he took to his feet. It was a reliable pain reliever, but it had to be used with caution. If the patient had any wounds, it could cause copious bleeding which could compromise a patient's health and possibly lead to death – especially if it was would that had been produced by a deep slash.

His hands, worn from years of grinding ingredients, cradled his head as he bent over. The sudden change in his blood pressure threatened to black out his consciousness. Grasping the table and another chair, he eased his body into a more stable set of circumstances as he questioned his uneasiness. His guts were twisting violently. Something was wrong. He placed two fingers on his wrist to feel the thumping of his blood as it pumped through, but other than being able to palpitate alarm and anxiety – he felt nothing remarkable.

One of the servants had been by, he couldn't be sure it was George as it was now a competition to see which servant could deliver his meals, stoke his fire, or launder his clothes – before any of the others could make it to his quarters. They were going out of their way to extend these attention to Hunith as well, even though she protested as politely as she could. They did it out of the guise of hospitality of the king to her, but Gaius knew Arthur better than that. He wouldn't go out of his way to order his servants to serve his former manservant's mother – no matter the amount of affection he had for his manservant. He was a Pendragon after all.

A gust rattled his window panes and a quick glance revealed the first true flurries of the season dancing gently just outside the glass. Frowning to himself, wondering how Hunith was fairing with the willow branches, Gaius shuffled with stiff feet to the hearth and placed the kettle on the fire. At the very least he could have a cup of mint tea to warm and refresh her cold body when she came back.

* * *

two chapters in one day...

I hope it doesn't mess things up.

Please don't kill me.


	13. Chapter 13

Starting off with the Author's Note: I wasn't sure if I would get this done today. Oh and never assume :)

* * *

Okay, admittedly. He had_ lied._ He wasn't going to walk to the lake with Glinde and heal himself. He was going to command the sidhe to spirit him away. That was the plan, but he had been manipulated. His strict rules about not attacking non-magic using humans were going to have to reviewed! One thing was certain, he wasn't envious of Arthur's position. No one in their right mind would ever want this kind of responsibility. He certainly didn't! Merlin was raised as a peasant. A farmer. Granted he had an excellent education – even compared to a noble. However, Merlin had no desire for this role he had found himself filling. His head filled with the should haves... and could haves...

He should have just cast a glamour or a temporary spell that would have practically paralyzed him after it wore off, but by then he could have sent Gwaine back to Camelot well hugged with Merlin's excuses and apologies. No, Gwaine had grabbed him when he was sleeping, hadn't he? By then it was too late. That irritating sidhe led him to this!

Stupid - stubborn Gwaine, he _knew _it. He_ knew_ that Merlin was _lying. _ Merlin hated his skills at lying. He should have worked on them. People always knew when he was lying in some way. Even when he realized what Glinde had in mind and started to honestly panic, it was too late. Nothing was going to stop Gwaine at that point.

Gwaine was a ... lousy friend! DAMN HIM! Where the hell had he gotten the idea that an expression of friendship and devotion was to... and who the hell asked him to? Since when does a knight of Camelot listen to a creature of magic and say, "What ever you say, I'm not even going to ask questions about the method or ask you what you are actually hoping for?" Seriously?! Did he not remember all those magical threats they had faced together? Gwaine should know that his magic knowledge is zero! Merlin never went around slashing about with swords or maces unless he was forced to pick one up! He never made decisions around using forces he didn't understand – and when he had to?! He did his research! He learned long ago … the hard way... not to jump into action! No matter what he was trying to reach for! Good intentions – led to disasters!

Gwaine, oh... Gwaine.

Merlin brooded over admitting, stupidly, he wouldn't heal himself because what would happen? Why didn't he just just tell the truth from the start? Oh yes, he was really tired. He had even purged magic – again. Oh gods... he had to stop doing that. Merlin lay face down in the mud at the edge of the lake, crying. The tears ran down mixing with the mud that stained his wet face, washing clean rivulets through the filth,. Each tear that fell hit the wet soil below his face with a soft pat.

Greatest warlock to ever walk the earth – most magical – most powerful – it wasn't any use if he couldn't protect everyone! Merlin's long fingers dug a shallow trough in the wet earth desperately as if trying to grasp some kind of wisdom just below the surface. Shallow, shuddering breaths racked his slim frame.

It was so cold.

Flurries danced down and dusted the peaty muck all around him.

He had already had his heart broken by Lancelot. He had failed to solve the issue himself. He took too long and it ended in tragedy. Lancelot was a friend and had treated Merlin more like a secret member of the brotherhood. It was nice to be acknowledged as someone with strength and talent. It was nice to help someone without having to hide.

Gwaine... Gwaine was always different.

Gwaine admired Merlin even when Merlin tried to be invisible. He tried to include Merlin even when he thought Merlin was just a manservant. He went out of his way to be helpful. Gwaine noticed things that no one else did. And after he found out about the magic, he acted like it was … fine.

Merlin's steady stream of tears mixed with the anger in his heart and soon he was sobbing like a small child.

His guts hurt. He was in the middle of deciding whether or not he was ever going to forgive Gwaine for this or not. He coughed, lake water streamed out of his mouth in a half splutter half gurgle. A splurgle? Uhm, why not?

Glinde was hovering. That bitch. He felt like setting her wings on fire, but they were pretty and he wasn't that petty. She was squatting like a simple maid and had one small warm hand on his shoulder. She was the last creature he wanted to see, but here she was.

"Merlin? Are you alright? You need to get up. You're still half in the lake," said Glinde in a calm and soothing voice.

He wanted to sling curse words at her. As if he cared about how _wet _he was right now?

Merlin sat up and turned his back to her, staring out into the mirror smooth lake. He was angry. Gwaine really thought a lot of himself if he thought that he thought that his actions were needed or wanted. Snowflakes dusted his freezing trouser legs that he hugged towards his chest. There was no warmth in him anymore.

Kilgharrah landed gently at his side, "Merlin what are you doing here? You know that..."

"Yes, I know... I know!" admitted Merlin. Sadly.

The introduction of the dragon caused Gwen – who had been watching with interest - to scream and retreat for the treeline. She remembered him as a winged menace. Merlin greeted him and then merely leaned against the thick hide of his kin's forelegs as if he could somehow become stronger just by touching the great dragon. Glinde pelted Gwen with insults about silliness and insulting behavior. She brought Gwen back to her senses, but Gwen's former calm was gone. She was once again a tearful bundle of nerves.

"Merlin... I hope you did not summon me just for this." scolded the dragon.

"I needed you. You're late," Merlin explained. His voice was flat. Misery had taken hold.

"Well if I'm not needed... " Kilgharrah said as he spread his wings, ready to make a hasty retreat.

"No, please stay," begged Merlin. "I need... my own kind...family... right now."

The old dragon who had tendencies to be cranky, softened, even though he was still impatient. He tried to hide his affection for this skinny little warlock, but it was difficult when his dragon lord was affectionate."Very well. Young warlock, you're wet, make a fire," recommended the dragon.

"My magic is spent at the moment," Merlin explained, twitching with misery.

Glinde heard the comment about Merlin needing family so she flit up to him and smugly said, "I said you should dry off. I made a comment about you still laying in lake water! You don't need this thing for family! You have me! You have the entire SIDHE!"

Merlin glared at her, "You can flutt off and not come back - for all I care."

Kilgharrah sighed and did his best version of a dragon shrug. He didn't have the whole story, but he did know that Merlin did not want to be near the lake. He did know that the sidhe were not Merlin's idea of fuzzy huggable companions. He also knew that the warlock had quite a bit of resentment for all the added responsibility he had been shouldering lately. Not that he blamed his young friend, the boy was responsible for the future after all. He was also just beginning to be able to imagine the entire scope of the work involved and that it was more than playing body guard to a danger prone Pendragon.

The great dragon rumbled with discontent, he wanted to fry the sidhe fairy thing – but Merlin would be cross. Even as angry as the boy was, if he wasn't blasting the creature himself – Kilgharrah wasn't going to do it for him. After all, Merlin was more than capable of fighting his own magical battles as long as he wasn't outnumbered, sick, or encumbered with ignorance. He turned to the forests edge and with one mighty whack of his tail, felled a tail. He nudged the tree over to his warlock and then lit it aflame. The heat of the dragon fire was terrific. Merlin's blued skin, turned pink. His eyes were still red rimmed from copious amounts of tears.

"What is the matter, young warlock?"

Merlin fought tears from re-spilling, but he lost the battle, "I nearly lost my friend, but right now I can't raise him from the lake until my magic restores itself."

"He is alive"" queried the dragon.

"Yes, of course he's alive! I would be even more unhappy if he was actually dead! I'm just ...mad at him. I nearly lost him. He tried to _sacrifice_ himself for me because of stupid Glinde!" Merlin went on to make comments about the selfishness of those who would dare try to sacrifice themselves uninvited for the good of others – and what kind of idiot would do such a thing. Kilgharrah only nodded and said, "Yes, what_ kind_ of idiot." and kept the obvious reply from passing over his sharp dragon teeth. There was just so much that an overly emotional and newly healed warlock could handle.

Of course, Merlin being healed was going to add to his problems. The sidhe's desire to restore their king to full power and full health – would add to his hardship. Kilgharrah's heart thumped in his large breast in sympathy as the story unfolded as Merlin's exhausted and emotion voice told the story as best as the warlock could remember.

As Merlin and Kilgharrah had their little family chat. Merlin filled the dragon in on the finer details while Kilgharrah asked questions. Both sighed a bit. Kilgharrah gave some cryptic advice – for old times sake, Merlin laughed. He was still sad, but the nearness of having kin had a healing effect and he was responding quickly. The dragon grinned as he watched the subtle changes in the magical powerhouse. The fire warmed the warlock, the heat restored his sense of self that the cold had chased away. Thanks to a little bit of dragon power, Merlin was soon raising Gwaine from the bottom of the lake. A magic bubble had protected the handsome knight, but Merlin in his weakened state - had not had the physical strength to pull him up. His magic purge had left him unable to do any more than freeze Gwaine in a bubble of unmoving time. It was a powerful and complicated spell that not even the sidhe would be able to tamper with...but once Gwaine was dragged from the lake. Merlin released the magic that had given Gwaine his only chance to resist the sidhe's magic.

He was unscathed. He was wet but he was fine. He wasn't even out of breath even though he had been in the water for quite some time. Merlin's mind blurred trying to work out the time. Gwaine. His Gwaine. His good friend, the one he promised himself to keep alive, would be fine.

Gwaine shook his shoulder length hair glamorously, the icy water sprayed. Wan winter sunlight attempted to glint off of his armor, but it was late in the day. It was as if the sun was lazy, deciding for itself that the knight was stunning enough without lighting effects.

Gwen, who had been keeping her distance, gasped loud enough for all to hear. Gwaine's sudden appearance had inspired an exclamation as loud as Kilgharrah's.

Almost instantly, Gwaine went to grab up Merlin – but the dragon interfered by snaking his massive tail between knight and dragon lord.

"No need, as you can see, our young warlock is fine," scolded the dragon. "Now that you have your friend and you can thaw your insides, I will leave this place. Do not linger. At such a time, even for one with your great powers..."

"I know... I know... I wasn't planning on it. In fact, I think I know of a way to get out of here really quickly," admitted Merlin bitterly as he stared out into the lake. The sun was fading. The fireflies were coming out. Then, for just a brief moment, Merlin smiled as a familiar face shimmered beneath the surface. No one else saw her, but it was good to see her even briefly.

"You have seen her?" asked the dragon, perfectly aware he was encouraging Merlin to expose things unknown in front of his human friends.

"Yes, I have. She is unharmed," breathed Merlin in relief as he climbed up on the dragon and found his favorite spot behind the beast's head ridges.

"Oi, Merlin... What are you...?" Gwaine called out.

"I told you I don't want to be HERE!" yelled the pissed off warlock as he and the dragon took to the skies, leaving Gwaine with Glinde and Gwen. The smooth surface reflected the escaping dragon as it passed above. Gwaine was drying quickly in the dragon fire lit bond fire. He was whole. He was alive... and the selfish knight's need to do good by Merlin had done a lot of damage.

Merlin's determination to stop Morganna was even stronger than ever before. His heart was no longer beating like a rabbit caught in a trap, but he was determined to avoid certain things due to the potential futures he had seen in the crystal cave.

He was cold. Freezing, but truthfully he hadn't felt this alive since before his last confrontation with Morganna. He never wanted to feel so dead inside. How she could stand feeling like that, he didn't understand. However he had never seen her more clearly. Anyone who would give up their humanity to become like that? Was dangerous... she needed to be stopped. No matter what the price.

His restoration would mean that the little humanity that had been exchanged and transferred into her was now gone. She would be free of the Curse of Life. She would once again be free to become a full priestess of the old religion and living on the brink between the worlds so that she could better harness the energies of life... and death... to fuel her evil magic.

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Spoiler: "He must really care for you if he reversed ..."


	14. Chapter 14

After the dragon left, Gwen ran across the grass and the mud. She was silhouetted by the pinks and oranges that bled through the treeline in the background. She flung herself at Gwaine, wrapping her arms around the cold knight who had just begun to remove pieces of his armor in order to dry properly. The under-padding that protected his fabulously fit body was now the biggest threat to his well-being in these weather conditions.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay. Don't cry," he mumbled into the maiden who was clinging to him like a lifeline.

She sniffled, her eyes were wild but rather clear for one who had been so upset for so long, "Gwaine, what happened to you? You just saw the dragon, that thing has attacked Camelot and you just stood there like..."

"You have been exiled for a while. There is a lot you don't know. That dragon defended Camelot recently," said Gwaine calmly holding her warm hands in his cold ones. She rubbed at his hands, concern blossoming anew on her pretty face.

"Defended? That must have been a sight. Arthur must have been confused. Oh! You're so cold..."

"Arthur and the dragon had a chat. Don't look at me like that and I'm not enchanted, Gwen. Not unless you think friendship is some sort of magic."

She opened her mouth to speak, but Glinde interrupted the two who had rudely forgotten her. Steam from her hot breath billowed before her face as she huffed in a way that was very much like the man that she had once promised to wed.

"Friendship is magic. So is LOVE. So is childbirth! It's just... a different kind... of magic," conceded the sidhe. "How can he love you?!" she demanded of Gwaine.

"We're the best of mates. I told you that," explained Gwaine, his grin formed by pain. Gwen was being a little rough. She was rubbing his hands with hers in order to chase away the chill. It was pointless since he was soaked to the bone.

"Disgusting creature," muttered Gwen passive aggressively – because it was just loud enough for Glinde to hear her perfectly.

"I think she's rather pretty," lied Gwaine, hoping the creature had an inkling of vanity. He wanted to stay on her good side. He didn't want her to fly off quite yet. "Glinde, I feel like I missed quite a lot. One second, I've got a sick Merlin in my arms and I'm going under the water... the next... I'm out of the water and he's fine. He's wet and there's a fire. And a dragon! So... mind filling me in? So, little one, did it work or was he faking it?"

"Did it work? No, it didn't work. You're still alive," sulked the little blue handmaiden, unaffected by the snow and the cold. Her bare skin of her legs and arms exposed to the elements, but she had not shivered or even showed one bit of discomfort.

"You mean you let him leave when he was still sick? The dragon said that..."

"He's perfect, even if his boots were still a bit soggy," she said, her eyes wide and her voice trembled with excitement.

"He's perfect? You said that it didn't work..."

"You were supposed to be sacrificed to heal him. I was going to use my magic which is kind of the same as the Cup. However, Lord Emrys has mastered the Cup of Life and Death...to the extent that he can reverse a use. Perhaps it is because he used his own soul as the power source? No matter. Instead of allowing a contract to be made with your soul as the price, Merlin simply undid the magic. – which has _NEVER_ been done before. He did it and he did it sick. He did it and he did it after he purged magic. He did it with a torn soul. He did it on instinct just like any other magnificent creature of magic!" Glinde was getting more excited as she spoke. Her reverence for Merlin was becoming something of a concern. Gwaine wondered how she would react if he took Merlin back to Camelot – and there were more than just this one... errr sidhe thing, right? "... in fact, he is so perfect that he defies the word! It's not good enough for him. He's … Emrys. My Lord, my Master, my king... the one who will live outside of time for eternity."

She was panting as if she had been running. Her face bluer around the cheek bones, Gwaine wondered if that was her people's look for 'flushed.' She was hugging herself in her zeal, but she quickly soured.

"He must really care for you if he reversed that spell...," she said as if she were calling Gwaine a criminal. She obviously hated saying it. She was busy loving Merlin and hating Gwaine at the moment. Jealousy was flaring behind her miniature eyes.

"I told you we are friends. We're close, like brothers."

Gwen turned smugly to the little creature as she brushed flurries from her clothes, "That's right! Merlin loves Gwaine like a _brother _and you tried to murder Gwaine... so Merlin _hates_ you now." Her head was capped with snow, like a little white hat and it clung in clumps to her long hair that was curling into unruly tendrils.

"Now Gwen, hate is too strong of a word. Merlin doesn't do hate well. And she was only trying to help. She didn't try to kill me, she was just trying to save Merlin," Gwaine was trying to heal the wound that Gwen ripped open. He had to admit if Merlin could just heal himself there really wasn't a reason for him to exchange his life to heal Merlin's soul.

"Save Merlin? He looked pretty powerful to me when he came and took me from my new home! He attacked my druid friend. He might have been sick, but he was no where near death!"

Gwaine shook his head, "Druid friend?"

Glinde threw her slight chest forward and raised her chin, "Fine! Fine!" She waved her hand and Gwaine could feel his overall discomfort and sogginess lessening.

"Fine! He loves you and not me. Fine! I get it! You can show me how to make him love me? You can make him love me?" Glinde demanded childishly. "What if _you_ love me? Will he love me? Does it work that way for your... kind? It's bad enough he _loves_ her!" The small angry female pointed towards the lake, her bottom lip quivering.

"Loves who?" Gwen asked with interest.

"Her! That druid girl he put in OUR lake all those years ago," Glinde was clearly jealous. "He can't even touch her or hold her. He's content to know she's here. He's only been able to glimpse her since, but nooooo that's enough to feed his heart. Yknow what his problem is? He lacks ambition. He could do so much better than to pine over a murdered girl."

"Merlin is in love? And she's dead?" Gwaine found this information upsetting.

"Yes! I just said that. Well she's not totally dead. She's preserved in between life and death, but more dead than alive...oh and in between time. That girl, is now able to be timeless. Somewhere he'll never be able to reach. She's dead in the way that she's not alive. Just as he's alive in the way that he is not dead – nor will he ever be. However there are worse things than being dead. They will both spend the rest of time on different sides of the gate, only able to see the other. Sometimes to speak. I know he's pure, but perfectly pure? What's the point in that?"

"You're making my head hurt," Gwaine told her. Mixed emotions coming to the surface in great floods, mixing with his own commentary in his head. The rejection of the creature's coldness. The realization that Merlin had a more complicated past that he could even begin to imagine.

Gwen moved closer to Gwaine, clearly disturbed by the sidhe.

Glinde's sulk wasn't over, "But if you ask me, she didn't really fully love him. She loved how he made her feel. I mean who wouldn't! He's Emrys. If Emrys loved you?! You're special. She was going to run off without him, but she got hurt. You know how mortals are, stick them with something sharp enough in the right place and the fragile things either fade dramatically or expire on the spot! She faded in his arms... right over there in that spot." Glinde indicated a spot with a toss of her hand.

Gwaine was pale with horror.

"Oh it was very _touching_," Glinde said sarcastically. "Then his grief and his will transformed her in the funeral pyre and the rest is eternal pining. Pathetic. Polluting Avalon with the soul of a HUMAN. He has _me_ now, I'm here. I'm magic. I am totally willing..."

"Who killed her?" Gwaine interrupted interested wondering if Merlin even knew who murdered his lover.

The small creature shrugged, "I don't know and I never asked. Why remind him to think more about her? Really? I'm touchable and he's not interested in even being my friend!" The creatures coldness was overwhelming. Even Gwen was moved by the lack of care, "If you love Merlin you wouldn't … dismiss his feelings and judge him! You wouldn't mock his heart! You should be moved by this and not so.. COLD!" she shouted at Glinde and then gasped. "Oh." Gwen swallowed with a disturbed look on her face, "I have some thinking to do."

Gwaine was warming up, but he did think it was best to do their talking while camping properly. The fireflies, usually only found in summer, were out. It was getting dark and the dragon fire would soon consume his wood. They had no food and he wasn't keen on drinking water from a lake where Merlin's dead girlfriend lived... errr... existed.

He couldn't let it go, "So what happened to Merlin, Glinde? Where is he now? Why did he want to get away from the lake?"

The Sidhe snapped defensively, "I don't know where he went. What am I? I have magic, but I don't have all the answers. The dragon and he have a bond as they are kin. The dragon will not only obey him, but since they are close... who knows where he will take him. He might decide to take Emrys to his lair, back to the crystal cave, or where ever Emrys desires. He might fly as far and as long until he expires just to please Emrys and then he'll be loved even more than he is... and if he dies then Emrys will be so pleased and so touched there will be no room left in his heart for me!"

"Glinde, you want to be my friend, right? Can you tell me why Merlin didn't want to be near the lake?"

Her small eyes narrowed in anger, "He said something... once... about not wanting to return to Avalon while that Morganna witch is alive. I don't know the details. He was upset when he said he said it was his wish not to go to Avalon. We were all upset. He's our king, he belongs with his people."

"How can he be your king?" Gwen asked.

"Emrys killed our king and the one who kills the king, becomes the king. You don't understand. Our people are immortal so in order to kill one of us... we have to be completely destroyed. Our entire being, soul and all... erased. We follow the strongest. Emrys is the strongest. He is our king."

Gwen grabbed Gwaine's arm, she was shaking.

"Well, all well and good, but lets get back to the cave. We need shelter, warmth, and food. I'm not keen in spending time here if this is a place where he doesn't want to be. I want to talk to Merlin. I miss my mate," Gwaine said to Glinde. He left out a lot of information and she was regarding him with suspicion but she agreed to bring them back to the cave.

"Weren't you saying you couldn't leave his side?" Gwaine asked.

"He left my side, I don't think it counts. I ..."

"Give him a chance, Gwen. He's still the Merlin we all love. He's our friend. He's just been outed as a magic man and I think it's great! Hey, you'd love him in his cat form. He's practically kittenish... well unless you're trying to give him a bath. That was a pain."

Gwen nervously chuckled, she nodded. Grinning sheepishly she took Gwaine's arm again. "I think you're right. I … I just need some time to adjust to this. I'm not saying I accept all of this, I just.. well I think I need to know more before I judge him."

The handsome and incredibly fit knight wasn't sure he liked that, but it would do. He didn't like pretty ladies being unhappy. He knew that Merlin had been trying to talk Arthur into going after Gwen before his battle with Morganna. He couldn't even begin to guess what Arthur would say to the fact that she was back in his lands, but right now he had to protect her. He had to find Merlin and bring him home. He had to somehow make everything make sense and he had to do it alone.

He had never felt more lost. At least as a wanderer, he had the lack of direction to blame for his position in life. Now he had something to do and a purpose, he just wasn't sure how he was going to pull it off.

He picked up pieces of his armor and strapping them back on – with the help of the blacksmith's daughter. The metal was so cold that he felt as if the bare skin that touched it had burned. It wasn't a good sign. He was still very cold, despite the magic interference from Glinde. The trip would keep his blood warm and hopefully once back at the cave he would have figured out how to manipulate Glinde in taking care of them. She might be a useful Merlin locating device. She was definitely motivated to serve him.

* * *

"How many times do I have to tell you that I am not a horse, Merlin?" snapped the ancient dragon. His majestic and mythically beautiful self had been carting around a human on a joy ride since sunset and the night was half over. His dragon lord showed no signs of wanting to land nor had he requested a destination. Kilgharrah was getting a bit tired of all the whoops and exclamations of _"Oh lets go over there!"_

Merlin leaned forward and patted his friend's eye ridges, "Think of it as a personal favor? I'll owe you one!"

The smile on the warlock's face was so wide, Kilgharrah could hear it when he spoke. It did not matter if he could see the face of his dragon lord, he could hear the pleasure. Snow danced around them harmlessly. It was hard to imagine that Merlin could see very well through the thickening snowfall – but since he begged that Kilgharrah fly over Camelot just so he could see the palace...

Approval flowed from Merlin's lips, he commented on the coziness the little cottages. The smokestacks were streaming and that meant everyone was warm and comfortable. Arthur's room was lit. He was probably at his desk with a weak – but warm goblet of heavily spiced wine. It was time for him to review the taxes from last months collections. He would have to decide how much more or less to tax his people for the next month since the seasons were changing and it was best to lessen the burden when the people had little to no income. Winter was hard on a commoner.

It was disappointing that he couldn't be there for Arthur when Uther died, but Merlin decided that is was a small gift from Destiny. He wasn't quite sure if he could fake the amount of sadness, even for Arthur's sake, necessary. Part of him was relieved when he heard that the megalomaniac with paranoid and homicidal habits was finally dead. Finally Arthur was free to be the leader he was meant to be and he would be able to pick his own wife. Uther was denied little, but that he was unable to influence who stood at Arthur's side – gave Merlin a twisted sense of accomplishment.

_Arthur deserved to be happy and Uther had wanted to chose the woman that Arthur was to love. As if a person could … oh crap_, they were drifting lower "Hey! Kilgharrah, fly higher. It might be a moonless night but the guards on the towers aren't totally blind!"

"Now you are on expert on flight?" snapped the dragon – but his tone had a hint of playfulness to it. In truth, Merlin had never felt more connected to his kin. This legacy from his father was priceless. His family had grown. It was as if the dragon lord's gift was to have not only a protector, but a teacher, and a friend... a scaley brother who literally be there in a way that no human could. As much as Merlin would have loved to have had more time with Balinor... no...not even his bond with the dragons erased that pain. However they did ease it and make it more managable.

Merlin didn't have much time with his own father, but he was proud of his father. They had very little time to make memories. His father was honorable. Arthur had plenty of time to make memories, but he had a father that he would have been better off if he had as little time together as possible.

The sky was inky black and the stars shone with a brightness that rivaled the best jewels in the kingdom. Arthur could have the jewels. Merlin loved the sky – and the sky was free! Everyone could appreciate the sky. It was large enough to share with anyone and better, no one could fight over it. It was a place that belonged to no body and that was how it should be. Well, maybe it belonged to dragons!

"Merlin..." complained Kilgharrah.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry. It's just been a long time since we went flying."

"Merlin, we've never just gone flying before."

Merlin grinned, "Well we should have!"

Kilgharrah despite his wish to remain forever difficult and dignified in the face of the little warlock, barked out a laugh. In truth he didn't mind. However if his fellow dragons had still been alive, they would have teased him for this. To allow a human, even a dragon lord, to treat a dragon like a common mode of transportation was bad enough, but to take a human on a joy ride was humiliating. Then again, Merlin was a magical creature himself. Perhaps he was not acting as shamefully. Perhaps, the others might have even of been jealous.

"Where do you want me to bring you?"

"I read about places that are far out at sea. I'd like to visit a tropical island with no humans, no sidhe, no druids, no magical creatures except for you and Aithusa, of course. Maybe my mother and Gaius, if you wouldn't embarrass me by grumbling like a mule, but really Kilgharrah, imagine it?... ahhhh... with nice soft trees that I can make a boat and float and fish? The waters are the clear and blue like a summer sky. There's all kinds of weird fish and some even..."

"Merlin! As much as that sounds like a good idea..."

"Oh I know, I know, but one day, Kilgharrah, when all of this nonsense is settled – that's what we'll do. We'll take a family holiday! You can teach Aithusa how to swim!"

"I... don't know how to swim," admitted the dragon.

"Then I'll teach you both!"

The dragon laughed, "Merlin, please, as strong as you are – you still have a frail human body. Even a creature with your magic cannot go without food, warmth, and sleep. Today has been a long and exhausting day. You need..."

"Alright already! Gee Kilgharrah. I haven't felt good in quite some time, can't you allow me a moment where..."

"Merlin! You keep chattering but you don't answer my question!"

Merlin deflated – his voice was flat when he spoke. "Fine. Take me as close to the Crystal Cave as you can. With my luck, Gwaine and Gwen will have gone there and they'll ruin my peace. I need to be there anyway to watch over Arthur, because it is my duty. He is my Destiny. The world will end if I don't do my job for every waking moment of every day... not to mention that I have to deny myself sleep in order to anticipate... "

Guilt surged through the dragon so he quietly added, "We'll go flying again... one day. Not to some island though and I'm not flying any other human other than you."

Merlin grinned. He held on tight to Kilgharrah and let the night air sting his eyes. Ice had formed on his clothes. His skin was red from wind burn. He was half frozen and he was happy. Once again, he could feel and experience the world the way it should be felt.

The world below was black and white. Snow decorated and iced the landscape and the stars added their mute illumination so that he could barely see what was really there from this height. It was marvelous. Just for now, he wasn't Emrys. He was Merlin again. It was great!

"Kilgharrah, once I kill the witch, we're going on a family holiday," stated Merlin confidently.

"Merlin..."

"So you'll have to coach Aithusa on long distance flying."

"_Mer_lin!"

"And then you and Aithusa _are_ going to learn to swim."

"MERLIN!"

* * *

AN:... ok?


	15. Chapter 15

The headache that followed his little get away on dragon-back soon settled in when Kilgharrah left him in a clearing near the Valley of the Fallen Kings. The freedom he could imagine was clearly far from him. He could stare at it, understand it, recognize it – the way he could his very own image in a mirror. But try as he might, that free self of that mirror – he couldn't touch. Warlock or not, there were limits.

A thin crust of fluffy ice made protests as his feet tread along the path that would lead him to his hideaway. He did not bother wiping his footprints. He was aware that Arthur had left him to Gwaine and even though Gwaine had said that Arthur wanted him back – yes, he was aware enough at the time to understand that – he was determined to see this mission through.

Arthur's needs were important to him and there was nothing greater than being close to his friends and family, but it was crucial that the wheels of freedom should begin to turn. Without that, tomorrow wouldn't be worth living. As an immortal, he would have to watch everyone he ever loved's descendants live in a world of unfair limitations and attempt to bring small amounts of relief to their suffering.

One thing was for certain, if Morganna had her way – life wouldn't be worth living.

She'd fallen so hard for the old religion, which was now nearly dead, that she would want to bring it back and it's customs. She would deny hope and the future...There was a small branch laying on the side of the path, Merlin picked it up to use as a walking stick. The ground was getting slicker and walking up inclines was getting difficult.

Merlin sighed.

The path ahead was so clear and Morganna couldn't see it.

When wanting to live for tomorrow she wanted to walk backwards. That was not the best way to reach a destination. Sure it was good to know where you'd come from, but that is what memories were for! That's what history was for! If progress was bad, Geoffrey wouldn't have a position. There would be no need to record yesterdays.

The Old Religion made a mistake, or rather a high priestess did. Nimueh got herself involved in the court of King Uther and made some huge mistakes. Of course her interference would spurn resentment. Even if Arthur's mother had lived, the priestess did not see that man is so proud and so paranoid – showcasing that much control over the natural world – would set off a blaze of retribution.

Even Merlin could see it happening.

Oh Arthur might think that he knows what he wants, but Merlin was done arguing about the details of day to day life. Someone else can pick out his jackets and boots. Someone other than Merlin, who doesn't have to live two lives and do over a hundred jobs, can pump up that ego. Someone else can do his manservant job, easily.

Now that his secret was out, it didn't matter that Arthur's response was to make magic legal again. That was great for sorcerers, but what was the use if their magic was sputtering out and tainted as a result of the purge? It wasn't really all that – and it wasn't enough. Arthur still had the potential to witness magic and rebuke it. His heart was in the right place, but he was like a child trying to force an issue in order to get his own way. It wouldn't do, once the motivation had been fulfilled – years of anti magic education and tutelage would rear up and history would repeat.

Inside of Arthur, there was still a tiny little Uther balking at magic.

Being legal was not enough for magic to progress, there had to be a change. The old religion really did have to die. It wasn't until Merlin spent days and days peering into the crystals did he actually begin to understand this. In truth, he wasn't sure how he was going to do it yet. He did have a shadow of a plan to follow, but it was faint. The truth that had illuminated the reality was still dim and taking shape. He needed time to study and think.

His boot caught a stone on the path, it was hidden by the snow. Merlin nearly tripped and his eyes watered from his jarred toes. The pain in his head felt a bit more stabby. It was like having a pissed off mini Arthur in his head pounding away at the walls of his skull with a tiny little Excalibur in hand. Merlin took a spare neckerchief from his jacket pocket. It was wet and full of ice crystals, his pockets hadn't dried out from his earlier submersion in the lake. Still it was better than nothing, Merlin shook it out and then wiped his face with the extra coldness. His face was hot from the effort of walking in the slowly deepening snow, or even maybe from a fever – though he doubted it.

Riding in damp clothes on dragon-back in this weather wasn't really recommended, but it sure had felt nice – and Merlin rarely got ill. He wasn't convinced that exposure to cold could make the body ill. He and Gaius had discussed the possibility. Merlin's position was that any stress on the body could encourage illness, but Gaius had other ideas. He was the physician of note and he was good at his job. It just didn't fully make sense to Merlin. The humors of the body and all that... something seemed off.

Merlin smiled gently into the inky black of the familiar forest as a solution to his tomorrows came to him as if it fluttered down on the icy flakes that had inspired his mind to wander to his friend, mentor, and father-figure. He leaned on his walking stick, flakes of snow swirling elegantly around his body and sticking to his clothing and hair. He took a deep breath of clean crisp winter – it felt refreshing.

"It's not perfect... " Merlin said to himself, his voice gentle as if he were speaking to a newborn, "but it might be just enough so it can carry the hope of every tomorrow to the end of time."

* * *

Aggravaine half dragged half carried the burden of the gagged and bound woman in his arms into the shabby lair of his mistress. There was no fire lit. In this weather, Morganna was risking freezing to death in her sleep!

He dropped her, she was just a burden to be discarded on the filthy floor. As was his custom lately and lit a candle. It sputtered into life, the wan heat fluttering into the coldness of the room like a dying bird in a spurt of desperation. He strode to the hearth. He worked quickly, while talking to the woman he was sure was laying in a heap of listlessness on a shabby hay stuffed mattress, "I know that you weren't expecting me, but I just had to check on you. I brought you food. I'll make you a stew. I know I'm not that great of a cook, but I know enough to get by. Believe it or not, I've done the whole camping thing."

He laughed awkwardly as he began his usual acts of care, he was impatient to give Morganna her gift. He wanted to savor it. He wanted her fed and warm before he gave her … his present. His self consciousness growing as he wondered if this would work. He wanted to please her.

This woman, even in a broken state, was still the only person on this earth who ever made him feel this nervous. He wanted to please her, amuse her, and even her scolding him was preferable to the silence he was getting now. It was disconcerting.

How he yearned for her to speak. She had a voice that was womanly and yet – her voice could be flute like, but dip into savory tones. Unlike all the other women he'd ever known, she used that voice. He had even met queens and there was more hesitation and self doubt behind their words that disgusted him. With Morganna, there was none of that hesitation – and yet, here she was mentally wounded from her battle with the warlock.

Aggravaine couldn't imagine what Merlin had done to her, but he would never forgive him. He would pay. He would suffer as no other man would suffer, was what the druid writings claimed and his suffering would come from Aggravaine's hand. Death wasn't enough for the boy - he would personally make sure that the warlock would curse his birth.

* * *

Shorter than planned.


End file.
